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SERMONS, 


':^^  B  Y 


PUGH    BLAIR,    D.  D 

One   of  the  Mlnxsters  of  the  High    Church, 

A    N    P 

Professor  of  Rhetoric  and  Belles  Lettivso  in  the 
UNitERSiTY    of    Edinburgh. 


yOLUME    THE     SECOND, 


THE    THIRTEENTH    EDITION. 


LONDON:    Printed  : 

BALTIMORE:    Re  printed    for  the   Rev.  M.    L.    WeemS; 

by  Samuel  and  John  Adams,  Book-Prinieri, 

in  Gayt  the  Corner   of  Second- Street, 

M    DCC    XCIIIo 


T    H    E 

C     O   ^N     T     E     N     T     % 

SERMON     XXII. 

On  the  proper  Eftimate  of  Human  Life. 

EcCLESiASTES,  xii.  8.     Vanity  of  vanities  faith  the  preacher i  allU 
vanity  ! 

SERMON      XXIIL 

On  Death. 

Psalm  xxHi.  4.  Tea^  though  I  walk  through  the  valley  ofthefha-^ 
dbw  of  deaths  I  will  fear  no  evil ;  for  thou  art  with  me ;  thy  rod 
and  thy  fiaff  they  comfort  me, 

SERMON      XXIV. 

On  the  Happinefs  of  a  Future  State. 

ReVELAT.  vii.  9.  After  this  1  beheld,  and,  lo  !  a  great  multitude, 
which  no  man  could  number,  of  all  nations,  and  kindreds,  and  peiple^ 

'  and  tongues,  food  before  the  throne,  and  before  the  Lamb,  clothed 
with  white  robes,  and  palms  in  their  hands, 

SERMON     XXV. 

On  Candour. 
Corinth,   xiii.  5.     Charity — thinketh  no  evil 

S     E    R    M    O    N      XXVI. 

On  the  Charader  of  Jofcph. 

Genesis,  xIv.  5.  8.    t^ovj  therefore  he  not  grieved  nor  angry  with 


iv  CONTENTS, 

yourfehes  that  ye  fold  me  hither  :  for  God  did  fend  me  before  you  t<> 
preferve  Ife. — So  now  it  was  not  you  thatfent  me  hither ^  hut  God. 

SERMON      XXVII. 

0.  Kings,  viii.  i?,  13.  And  Hazael faid,  WJ^y  weepeth  my  Lord  ^ 
and  he  anfweri'dy  Bicaufe  1  know  t^e  evil  that  fhtu  wilt  do  unto 
the  children  of  Ifrael  Their  frong  holds  wilt  thou  fet  on  fire,  and 
their  young  men  zvilt  thou  fay  with  thefword,  and  writ  dajh  their 
children^  and  rip  up  their  women  with  child.  And  Ha%ael  faid. 
But  whaty  is  thy  fervant-  a  dog,  that  he  jhould  do  this  great  thin^} 
And  Eli  (ha  arifwered.  The  Lord  hath  Jhewed  me  that  thou  Jhdt  be 
king  over  Syria, 

SERMON      XXVIII. 

On  the  Benefits  to  be  derived  from  the  Houfe  of  Mourning. 

EcCLESlASTSS,  vil.  2,  3,  4.  . //  is  better  to  goto  the  hoife  of 
mourningy  than  to  the  houfe  of  Jeafiing  ;  for  that  is  the  end  of  aU 
men^  and  the  living  will  lay  it  to  his  heart.  Sorrow  is  better  than 
laughter;  for  by  the  fadnefs  of  the  countenance  the  heart  is  made 
letter.  The  heart  of  the  wife  is  in  the  houfe  of  mourning ;  but 
the  heart  of  fools  is  in  the  houfe  of  mirth. 


S    E    R    M    O    N      XXIX. 

On   the  dr/ine  Government  of  the  Paflions  of  Men. 

Psalm  Ixxvi.  lo.  Surely  the  wrath  of  man  fhall praife  thee :  tho 
remainder  of  wrath  fialt  thou  reflrain, 

SERMON      XXX. 

On  the  Importance  of  Religious  Knowledge  to  Mankind. 

Isaiah,  xi.  9.  They  fhall  not  hurt  nor  deflroy  in  all  my  holy  moun, 
tain  ;  for  the  earth  fhall  be  full  of  the  knowledge  of  the  Lord ^  as  the 
Wafers  cover  the  Sea, 


CONTENTS.  9 

SERMON      XXXL 

On  the  true  Honor  of  Man. 

Proverbs  iv.   8.     Exal/  hery  and  jhe  jhall  promote  thee  ;  j)je  (kali 
bring  thee  to  honor. — 

SERMON      XXXIL 

On     Senfibility. 

Rejoice  with  them  that  do  rejoice,  and  weep  zvilh  them  that  zveep» 

SERMON      XXXIII. 
On  the  Improvement  of  Time. 

Genesis  xlvii.  8.   And  Pharaoh  /aid  unto  Jacoby  How  old  art  thou  ? 

SERMON      XXXIV. 

On  the  Duties  belonging  to  MiddVe  Age. 

I  Corinth,  xiii.   li. ^JVhen   I  became  a  ?nan,  I  put  away 

childifi  things. 

SERMON      XXXV. 
On  Death. 

EccLESiASTES    xii.   5. Man  goeth  to  his  long  home,    and  th 

mourners  go  ahaiit  thejireets. 

SERMON      XXXVI. 

On  the   Progrefs  of  Vice. 

Corinth,  xv.  33.     Be  not  deceived:  evil    communications  corrj^pl 
good  manners. 

SERMON      XXXVIL 
Oil    Fortitude, 


VJ 


CONTEN     TS, 


Psalm  xxvii.  3.     Though  an  ho/l  Jhould encamp  a^a'wjl me,  my.  heart 
Jhall  not  fear. 

SERMON      XXXVIII. 

On  Envy. 
Corinth  xlii.  4.     Cha rity  envieth  not. 

SERMON      XXXIX. 
On   Idlenefs. 

Matthew  xx.  6.     Why  Jiand ye  here  all  the  day,    idle} 

SERMON      XL. 
On  the  Senfc  of  the  Divine  Prefence. 
Psalm  Ixxlii.  23.     /  am  continually  with  thee. — ^ 
SERMON      XLI. 
On  Patience. 
Luke  xxi.   19.     In  your  patience  pojpfs  ye  your  fouls. 
SERMON      XLIL 
On     Moderation. 
PHILIPPIANS  iv.  5.     Let  your  moderatim be  known  Unto  oilmen, 

SERMON      XLIIL 

On  the  Joy,  and  the  Bitternefs  of  the  Heart. 

Proverbs  xiv.   10.     The  heart  hioweth  his  own  bitternefs,  and  a 
f  ranger  doth  not  intermeddle  with  his  jcy. 


CONTENTS  vli 

SERMON      XLIV. 
On   Chara£lcrs   of  Imperfecfl  Goodnefs. 
Mark  X.    21.     Thenjefust  beholding  hinit  loved  him, 

SERMON      XLV. 

On  the  Sacrament  of  the  Lord's  Supper,  as  a  Preparation  for  Death, 

Matthew  xxvi.  29.  But  I  fay  unto  you  y  I  will  not  drink  henceforth 
of  this  fruit  of  the  vine,  until  that  day  when  I  drink  it  new  with 
you  in  my  Father* s  kingdom, 

SERMON      XLVL 

On  the  Ufc  and  Abufe  of  the  World, 

Corinth,    vli.  31. They  that  ufe  this  worldt  as  not  abufng  it, 

SERMON      XLVII. 

On  Extremes  in  Religious  and  Moral  ConducSl. 
FrOVERBS  iv.  27.     Turn  not  to  the  right  hand,  nor  to  the  left, 

SERMON      XLVIII. 
On  Scoffing  at    Religion. 

2  Peter  ili.   3. There Jhall  come  in  the  lafl  days  f coffers, 

SERMON      XLIX. 
On  the  Creation  of  the  World. 
Genesis  i,  i.     In  the  beginning  God  created  the  heaven  t  and  the  earth, 

SERMON      L. 

Oh  the   Diffolution  of  the  World. 

3  Peter  I  ii.  10.  But  the  Day  of  the  Lord  will  come  as  a  thief  in  ths 
night  :  in  the  which  the  heavens  Jhall  pafs  away  with  a  great  noife^ 
and  the  elements  Jhall  melt  with  fervent  heat ;  the  earth  aJjo,  and  the- 

%vorhs  that  are  therein j  Jhall  he  burnt  up. 

S  E  R  M  O  N 


• 


^,?  *  *  *  .-jc  :i:  *  .t,  l^ 


*^^l.^^'^CT'r'»^«^'^^'-  ^-»  --Sk.*  Jiik... 


^     E     R     M     P     N        XXII. 

On  the  proper  Estimate  cA  Human  Life, 

EccLEsiA3TEs,  xii.  8. 
Vanity  of  vanities ,  faith  the  preacher ^  all  is  vanity, 

S.^  O  Icrious  maxim  has  been  more  generally  adopted 
^  N  V"*  ^^^"  that  of  the  text.  In  every  age,  the  vanity  of  huriian 
^^         ^  hfe  has  been  the  theme  of  ficciamaiion,  and  the  fubjed  of 

^^  complaint.  It  is  a  conclufion  in  which  men  ot  all  charac- 
ters and  ranks,  the  high  and  the  low^  the  young  and  the  old.  the  reli- 
gions and  the  worldly,  have  more  frequently  concurred,  than  in  any  o- 
ther.  But  how  ju(t  foever  the  conclulion  may  be,  the  premifes  which 
lead  to  it  are  often  falfe.  For  it  is  prompted  by  various  mtjtive?,  aid 
derived  from  very  different  views  ot  things.  Sometimes  the  lan- 
guage of  the  text  is  alfumed  by  afceptic  who  cavils  at  Providence, 
and  cenfores  the  confiitution  of  the  world.  Sometimes  it  is  the 
coaiplaint  of  a  peeyiOi  man,  who  is  difcontcnted  with  his  Ration, 
and  ruffled  by  the  dilappointment  of  unreaionable  hopes.  Soiue- 
timcs  it  is  the  flyle  ot  the  licentious,  when  groaning  under  mife- 
ries,  in  which  their  vices  have  involvec'  them.  Invedives  againft 
the  vanity  of  th;e  world  which  come  from  any  of  thefe  quarters  de- 
fcrve  :i.o  regard;  as  they  are  the  didlates  of  impiety,  of  fpleen,  cr 
ot  tolly.  The  only  cafe  in  which  the  fentiment  ot  the  text  clain^s 
our  attention,  is,  when  uttered,  not  as  an  alpertion  on  Providejice, 
cir  a  refie61ion  on  human  affairs  in  general  ;  not  as  the  language  of 
private  difcontent,  or  the  refuU  of  guilty  fuffering^  ;  but  as  the  fo- 
ber  conclijfion  of  a  wife  and  good  man,  concerning  the  imperfec- 
tion of  tjiat  happinefs  which  rcfts  folely  on  worldly  pleafures. 
Tiiei-e  in  their  fairel^  form,  are  not  what  they  feem  to  he.  They 
never  bellow  that  complete  fatisfac^ion  which  they  promife  ;  and 
therefore  he  whe  looks  to  nothing  beyond  them  fliall  have  frequent 
raufe  to  deplore  their  vanity. 

Nothing  is  of  higher  importance  to  us,  as  men,  and  as  Chrifti- 
ans,  than  to  form  a  proper  eflimate  of  human  life,  without  either 
Joaciingit  with  imaginary  evils,  orexpeding  from  it  greater  advan- 
tages than  it  is  able  to  yield.     It  (hall  be  my  bufinef*  therefore, 

in 


On  the  proper  Eftim^ite^  6c.  ^ 

tc\  this  Dircourfe,  to  diftinguilh  a  jijft  and  religious  fenfc  of  the  va- 
nity of  the  world,  from  the  unreafonablc  complaints  of  it  which  v\e 
often  hear,  I  ihall  endeavour,  I.  To  fTiew  in  what  lenfe  it  is 
true  that  all  earthly  pleafures  are  vanity.  II.  To  enqu  re,  how 
this  vanity  of  the  world  can  be  reconciled  with  the  perfediotjs  of 
Its  great  Author.  III.  To  examine,  whether  there  are  not  (on  e 
real  and  fulld  enjoyments  in  human  life  which  fall  nut  under  this 
general  charge  of  vanity.  And,  IV.  To  point  out  the  proper 
improvement  to  be  made  of  fuch  a  ftate  as  the  life  of  man  ilidl  ap- 
pear on  the  whole  to  be. 

.  I.  I  AM  to  flidw  in  what  fenfe  it  is  true  that  all  human  plea- 
fures  are  vanity.  This  is  a  topic  which  might  be  embelhfhed  with 
the  pomp  of  much  defcription.  But  I  fhall  ftudioufly  avoid  exag- 
geration, and  only  point  out  a  threefold  vanity  in  humeri  life, 
which  every  impartial  obferver  cannot  but  adnjit;  difappointmenc 
in  purfuit,  dilTatisfa^lion  in  enjoyment,  uncertainty  in  pofieilion. 

.  Firft,  difappointment  in  purfuit.  When  we  look  around  us  on 
the  world,  we  every  where  behold  a  bufy  multitude,  intent  on 
the  profecution  of  various  defigns  which  their  wants  or  defires  have 
fuggefted.  VVe  behold  them  employing  every  meiLod  which  in- 
genuity can  devife,  fome  the  patience  of  induftry,  (bme  the  boldnefs 
of  enterprife,  others  the  dexterity  of  flratagem,  in  order  to  cornpafs 
their  ends.  Of  this  inceflant  ftir  and  acliviry,  what  is  the  fruit  ? 
In  comparifon  of  the  croud  who  have  toiled  in  vain,  how  fmall  is 
the  number  ot  the  fuccefsful?  Or  rather,  where  is  the  man  who 
will  declare,  that  in  every  point  he  has  completed  his  plan,  and  at- 
tained his  utmoft  wiHi.  No  extent  of  human  abilities  has  been  able 
to  difcover  a  path  which,  in  any  line  of  life,  leads  untrriiigly  to' 
fuccefs.  The  race  is  not  always  to  the  fivlft,  nor  the  hatlle  to  the 
Jlrong,  nor  riches  to  men  of  under/} amUng.  We  may  lorm  our 
plans  with  the  moft  profound  fagacity,  and  with  the  moft  vigilant' 
caution  may  gu^rd  agaiuft  dangers  on  every  lidc.  But  forre 
unforefeen  occurrence  comes  acrofs,  which  baffles  our  wifdonj, 
and  lays  our  labours  in  the  diift. 

Were  fuch  difappointments  confined  to  thofe  who  afpire  at  crr- 
grofiing  the  higher  departments  of  life,  the  misfortune  would  be 
lefs.  The  humiliation  of  the  mighty,  and  the  f^ll  of  ambition  from' 
iis  towering  height,  hitle  concern  the  bulk  of  mankind.     Thef<Sf 

B  are 


fo  On  the  proper  Efilmate 

are  objects  on  which,  as  on  diftant  meteors,  they  gaze  from  afar, 
without  drawing  perfonal  inflrudion  from  events  fo  much  above 
them.  But,  alas!  when  we  defcend  into  the  regions  of  private 
h"fe,  we  find  difappointment  and  blafted  hope  equally  prevalent 
there.  Neither  the  moderation  of  our  views,  nor  the  juftice  of 
our  pretenfions,  can  enfure  Ibccefs.  But  time  and  chance  happen  to 
all.  Againft  the  ftream  of  events  both  the  worthy  and  the  unde- 
ferving  are  obliged  to  druggie ;  and  both  are  frequently  over- 
borne alike  by  the  current. 

Besides  difappointment  in  purfuit,  difiatisfaclion  in  enjoyment 
is  a  farther  vanity  to  which  the  human  flate  is  fabjedl.  This  is  the 
fevered  of  all  mortifications,  after  having  been  fuccefsful  in  the 
purfuit,  to  be  baffled  in  the  enjoyment  itfelf.  Yet  this  is  found  to 
be  an  evil  (till  more  general  than  the  former.  Some  may  be  fo 
fortunate  as  to  attain  what  they  have  purfued  ;  but  none  are  ren- 
dered completely  happy  by  whac  they  have  attained.  Difappoint- 
ed  hope  is  mifery  ;  and  yet  fuccefsful  hope  is  only  imperfed:  blifs. 
Look  through  all  the  ranks  of  mankind.  Examine  the  condition 
of  thofe  who  appear  mod  profperous ;  and  you  will  find  that  they 
are  never  juft  what  they  defire  to  be.  If  retired,  they  languifij 
for  aftion  ;  if  bufy,  they  complain  of  fatigue.  If  in  middle  life, 
they  are  impatient  for  diftinftion ;  if  in  high  ftations,  they  figh  af- 
ter freedom  and  eafe.  Something  is  ftill  wanting  to  that  pleni- 
tude of  fat-isfacLion  which  they  expeded  to  acquire.  Together 
with  every  wifli  that  is  gratified,  a  new  demand  arifes.  One  void 
opens  in  the  heart,  as  another  is  filled.  On  wiflies,  wilhes  grow  ; 
and  to  the  end,  it  is  rather  the  expedation  cf  what  they  have  not, 
than  the  enjoyment  of  what  they  have,  which  occupies  and  intereffs 
the  moft  fuccefsful. 

This  dilfatisfaclion,  in  the  midfl  of  human  pleafure,  fprings  part- 
ly from  the  nature  of  our  enjoyments  themfelves,  and  partly  from 
circumftances  which  corrupt  them.  No  worldly  enjoyments  are  a- 
dequate  to  the  high  defiresand  powers  of  an  immortal  fpirit.  Fan- 
cy paints  them  at  a  diftancc  with  fplendid  colours ;  but  pofTefiion 
unveils  the  fallacy.  The  eagernefs  of  paflion  beflows  upon  them 
at  firft  a  brifli  and  lively  relidi.  But  it  is  their  fate  always  to  pall 
by  familiarity,  and  fometimes  to  pals  from  fatiety  into  difguft.  Hap- 
py would  the  poor  man  think  hin;felf  if  he  could  enter  on  all  the 

treafures 


<f  Hitman  Life,  1 1 

treafures  of  the  rich ;  and  happy  for  a  (hort  while  he  might  be ; 
but  before  he  had  long  contemplated  and  admired  his  ftate,  his  pof- 
feflions  would  feem  to  lefTen,  and  his  cares  would  grow. 

Add  to  the  unfatisfying  nature  of  our  pleafures,  the  attending 
circumftances  which  never  fail  to  corrupt  them.  For,  fuch  as  they 
are,  they  are  at  no  time  polTelTed  unmixed.  To  human  lips  it  is 
not  given  to  tafte  the  cup  of  pure  joy.  When  external  circum- 
ftances  fliow  faireft  to  the  world,  the  envied  man  groans  in  private 
under  his  own  burden.  Some  vexation  difquiets,  fome  paffions  cor- 
rodes him  ;  fome  diftrefs,  either  fdt  or  feared,  gnaws,  like  a  worm, 
the  root  of  his  felicity.  When  there  is  nothing  from  without  to 
difturb  the  profperous,  a  fecret  poifon  operates  within.  For  world- 
ly happinefs  ever  tends  to  deftroy  itfelf,  by  corrupting  the  heart. 
It  fofters  the  loofe  and  the  violent  pafTions.  It  engenders  noxious 
habits ;  and  taints  the  mind  with  a  falfe  delicacy,  which  makes  it 
feel  a  thoufand  unreal  evils. 

But  put  the  cafe  in  the  moft  favourable  light.    Lay  afide  from 
human  pleafures  both  difappointment  in  purfuit,  and  deceitfulnefs 
in  enjoyment;  fuppofe  them  to  be  fully  attainable,  and  complete- 
ly fatisfadiory ;  ftill  there  remains  to  be  confidered  the  vanity  of 
uncertain  poflTefTion  and  fhort  duration.     Were  there  in  worldly 
things  any  fixed  point  of  fecurity  which  we  could  gain,  the  mind 
would  then  have  fome  bafis  on  which  to  reft.     But  our  condition 
is  fuch,  that  every   thing  wavers  and  totters  around  us,     Boaft 
not  thyfdf  of  to-morrow  ;  for  thou  knovjpft  not  what  a  day  may  bring 
forth.     It  is  much  if,  during  its  courfe,   thou  hearefi;  not  of  fome- 
what   to   dif(]uiet    or   alarm    thee.      For    life    never   proceeds 
long  in  an  uniform  train.     It  is  continually  varied  by  unexpeded 
events.    The  feeds   of  alteration   are  every  where  fown  ;    and 
the  fun-fhine  of  profperity  commonly  accelerates  their  growth.    If 
your  enjoyments  be  numerous,  you  lie  more  open  on  different  fides 
to  be  wounded.     If  you  have  pofTefTed  them  long,  you  have  great- 
er caufe  to  dread  an  approaching  change.     By  flow  degrees  prof- 
perity rifes  ;  but  rapid  is  the  progrefs  of  evil.     It  requires  no  pre- 
paration to  bring  it  forward.     The  edifice  which  it  cofl  much  time 
and  labour  to  ered,  one  inaufpicious  event,  one  fudden  blow,  can 
level  with  the  duft.     Even  fuppofmg  the  accidents  of  life  to  leave 
us  untouched,  human  blifsmuft  ftill  betranfitory  ;  for  man  chang- 
es 


12  On  the  proper  Ejllmaie 

es  of  himfelf.  No  courfe  of  enjoyment  can  delight  us  long. 
What  atDufed  our  youth  loofes  its  charm  in  maturer  age.  As 
vears  advance,  our  pov\er5;  are  blunted,  and  our  pleafurable  feel- 
jiin;s  decline.  The  filent  lapfe  of  time  is  ever  carryiisg  fomewhat 
from  us,  till  at  lengih  the  period  comes  when  all  muft  be  fvvept  a- 
^vay.  The  prorpec!^  of  this  termination  of  our  labours  and  pur- 
fuits  is  fufficient  to  mark  our  ftate  with  vanity.  Cur  days  are  a 
hand^breadth^  and  our  age  is  as  nothing.  Within  that  little 
fpace  is  all  our  enterpriie  bounded.  We  crowd  it  with  toils 
and  cares,  vith  contention  and  ftrife.  We  projed  great  deilgns, 
entertain  higii  hopes,  and  then  leave  our  plans  unfinilhed,  and 
fink  irfto  oblivion. 

1'his  much  let  it  iuffice  to  have  faid  concerning  the  vanity  of 
the  V.  orld.  1  uat  too  much  has  not  been  faid,  muft  appear  to  e- 
very  one  who  confiders  how  generally  mankind  lean  to  the  oppo- 
fiie  iiJe  ;  ar.d  how  often,  by  undue  attachment  to  the  prefent  llate, 
they  both  feed  the  moft  {\\\\\:!^.y^A^\c^x\%,2iX\di  pierce  ihenifc  Ives  through 
with  many  Jmrro-jjs ,     Let  us  proceed  to  enquire, 

II,  How  this  vanity  of  the  world  can  be  reconciled  with  the; 
perfedions  of  its  divine  Author.  This  enquiry  involves  that  great 
d.fficulty  which  has  perplexed  the  thoughtful  and  ferious  in  every 
3gt ;  If  God  be  good,  whence  the  evil  that  fills  the  earth?  In  an- 
i\ver  xo  this  interefting  queftion,  let  us  obferve, 

In  the  firil  place,  that  the  prefent  condition  of  man  was  not  his 
original  ur  primary  llate.  We  are  informed  by  divine  revelation, 
that  It  is  the  confequence  of  his  voluntary  apoftacy  from  God  and 
a  tliite  of  innocence.  By  this,  his  nature  was  corrupted  ;  his  pow- 
ers v\  ere  enfeebled  ;  and  vanity  and  vexation  introduced  into  his 
lire.  Ail  nature  be:ame  involved  in  the  condemnation  of  man. 
The  earth  was  curfed  upon  his  account,  and  the  whole  creation 
made  U)  grocin  and  travail  in  pain. 

How  myiterious  foever  the  account  of  this  fall  may  appear  to  us, 
tna»y  circu  rdanres  concur  to  authenticate  the  fdd:,  and  to  fliovv 
that  hu'nan  nature  and  the  human  (late  have  undergone  an  unhap- 
py change.  The  belief  of  this  has  obtained  in  almofl  all  nations 
and  religions.  It  can  be  traced  through  all  the  fables  of  antiqui- 
ty. An  o'ofcure  tradition  appears  to  have  pervaded  the  whole 
f  srth,  that  man  is  not  now  what  he  was  at  firfl ;  but  that,  in  con- 

fequence 


of  Human  Life.  13 

/equence  of  fpme  tranlgrelTion  againfl  bis  great  Lord,  a  ftate  of  de- 
gradation and  exile  fucceeded  to  a  condition  that  was  more  flou- 
ri filing  and  happy.  As  our  nature  carries  plain  marks  of  perver- 
fion  and  diforder.  To  the  world  which  we  inhabit  bears  the  fymp- 
toms  of  having  been  convulfed  in  all  its  frame.  Naturalilfs  point 
out  to  us  every  where  the  traces  of  fome  violent  change  which  it 
has  fuffered.  Iflands  torn  from  the  continent,  burning  mountains, 
fliattered  precipices,  uninhabitable  wafles,  give  it  all  the  appear- 
ance of  a  mighty  ruin.  The  phyfical  and  moral  flate  of  man  in 
this  world  mutually  fympathize  and  correfpond.  They  indicate 
not  a  regular  and  orderly  (trudure  either  of  matter  or  of  mind, 
but  the  remains  of  fomewhai  that  once  was  more  fair  and  magni- 
ficent.    Let  us  obferve, 

Ik  the  fecond  place,  that  as  this  was  not  the  original,  fo  it  is  not 
intended  to  be  the  final  (late  of  man.  Though  in  confequence  of 
the  abufe  of  the  human  powers,  fin  and  vanity  were  introduced 
into  this  region  of  the  univerfe,  it  was  not  the  purpofe  of  the  Cre- 
ator that  they  fhould  be  permitted  to  reign  for  ever.  He  hath 
made  ample  provifion  for  the  recovery  of-  the  penitent  and  faith- 
ful part  of  his  fubjecls,  by  the  merciful  undertaking  of  that  great 
Reftorer  of  the  world,  our  Lord  Jefus  Chrift.  By  him  life  and  im- 
mortality were  both  purchafed  and  brought  to  light.  The  ytew  hea- 
vens and  the  new  earth  are  difcovered,  wherein  dwelleth  righteoufnefs ; 
where,  through  the  divine  grace,  human  nature  fhall  regain  its 
original  honours,  and  man  fliall  return  to  be  what  once  he  was  in 
Paradife.  Through  thofe  high  difcoveries  of  the  Gofpel,  this 
life  appears  to  good  men  only  in  the  light  of  an  intermediate  and 
preparatory  ftate.  Its  vanity  and  mifery,  in  a  manner,  difappear. 
They  have  every  reafon  to  fubmit  without  complaint  to  its  laws, 
^nd  to  wait  in  patience  till  the  appointed  time  come  for  the  rejlitu- 
iion  of  a\i  things.     Let  us  take  notice, 

It!  the  third  place,  that  a  future  ftate  being  made  known,  we 
can  account  in  a  fatisfying  manner  for  the  prefent  diftrefs  of  human 
life,  without  the  fmalleft  impeachment  of  divine  goodnefs.  The 
fufferings  we  here  undergo  are  converted  into  difcipline  and  im- 
provement. Through  the  bleffing  of  Heaven,  good  is  extraded 
from  apparent  evil  ;  and  the  very  mifery  which  originated  from 


14  On  the  proper  Efiimait 

fin,  is  rendered  the  means  of  correcting  finful  pallions,  and  prepar- 
ing us  for  felicity.  There  is  much  reafon  to  believe  that  crea- 
tures asimperfeiH:  as  we  are,  require  Ibme  fuch  preliminary  ftate  of 
experience  before  they  can  recover  the  perfedion  of  their  nature. 
It  is  in  the  midd  of  difappointinents  and  trials  that  we  learn  the 
infufficiency  of  temporal  things  to  happinefs,  and  are  taught  to 
feek  it  from  God  and  Virtue.  By  thefe  the  violence  of  our  palFions 
is  tamed,  and  our  minds  are  formed  to  fobriety  and  refledion.  In 
the  varieties  of  life,  occafioned  by  the  viciflitude  of  worldly  for- 
tune, we  are  inured  to  habits  both  of  the  active  and  the  fufFering 
virtues.  How  much  foever  we  complain  of  the  vanity  of  the  world, 
fads  plainly  fhow,  that  if  its  vanity  were  lefs,  it  could  not  anfwei* 
the  purpofe  of  falutary  difcipline,  Unfatisfadory  as  it  is,  its  plea- 
fures  are  flill  too  apt  to  corrupt  our  hearts.  How  fatal  then  muft 
the  confequences  have  been,  had  it  yielded  us  more  complete  en- 
joyment ?  Jf,  with  all  its  troubles,  we  are  in  danger  of  being  too 
much  attached  to  it,  how  entirely  would  it  have  feduced  our  affec- 
tions, if  no  troubles  had  been  mingled  with  its  pleafures.^ 

Thefe  obfervations  ferve  in  a  great  meafure  to  obviate  the  dif- 
ficulties which  arife  from  ihe  apparent  vanity  of  the  human  ftate, 
by  fliewing  how,  upon  the  ChrilUan  fyftem,  that  vanity  may  be  re- 
conciled with  the  infinite  goodnefsof  the  Sovereign  of  theuniverle. 
The  prefent  condition  of  man  is  not  that  for  which  he  was  originally 
defigned  ;  it  is  not  to  be  his  final  ftate  ;  and  during  his  pallage 
through  the  world,  the  diftrefTes  which  he  undergoes  are  render- 
ed medicinal  and  improving.  After  having  taken  this  view  of 
things,  the  cloud  which,  in  the  preceding  part  of  the  difcourfe, 
appeared  to  fit  lb  thick  upon  human  life,  begins  to  be  diflipated. 
We  now  perceive  that  man  is  not  abandoned  by  his  Creator. 
We  difcern  great  and  good  (rlefigns  going  on  in  his  behalf.  We 
are  allowed  to  entertain  better  hopes  ;  and  are  encouraged  to  en- 
quire, as  was  propoled  for  the 

Hid  Head  of  difcourfe,  Whether  there  be  not,  in  the  pre- 
fent condition  of  human  life,  fome  real  and  fulid  enjoyments 
which  come  not  under  the  general  charge  of  vanity  of  vanities. 
The  dodrine  of  the  text  is  to  be  confidered  as  chiefiy  addrefTed  to 
worldly  men.  Them  Solomon  means  to  teach,  that  kll  expedati- 
ons  of  blifs,  which  reft  iblely  on  earthly  poUeffions  and  pleafures 

ftiall 


%f  Human  Life*  15 

fliall  end  in  dlfappointment.  But  furely  he  did  not  intend  to  af- 
lert,  that  there  is  no  material  difference  in  thepurfuiis  of  men,  or 
that  no  rael  happinefs  of  any  kind  could  now  be  attained  by  the 
virtuous.  For  befides  the  unanfwerable  obje6lion  which  this 
would  form  againft  the  divine  adminiftration,  it  would  dircclly 
contradict  what  he  elfewhcre  aflerts,  that  while  God  giveth  fore 
travail  to  the  (inner,  he  giveth  to  the  man  that  is  good  in  his  fight, 
luifdom,  and  knowledge y  and  joy*.  It  may,  it  muft  indeed  be  ad- 
mitted, that  unmixed  and  complete  happineis  is  unknown  on 
earth.  No  regulation  of  condud  can  altogether  prevent  pafiions 
from  difturbing  our  peace,  and  misfortunes  from  wounding  our 
heart.  But  after  this  concefTion  is  made,  will  it  follow  that  there 
is  no  obje£l  on  earth  which  deferves  our  purfuit,  or  that  all  enjoy- 
ment becomes  contemptible  which  is  notperfed?  Let  us  furvey 
our  ftate  with  an  impartial  eye,  and  be  juft  to  the  various  gifts  of 
Heaven.  How  vain  foever  this  life,  confidered  in  itfelf,  may 
be,  the  comforts  and  hopes  of  religion  are  fufficient  to  give  fo- 
lidity  to  the  enjoyments  of  the  righteous.  In  theexercife  of  good 
affections,  and  the  teftimony  of  an  approving  confcience  ;  in  the 
fenfe  of  peace  and  reconciliation  with  God  through  the  great 
Redeemer  of  mankind  ;  in  the  firm  confidence  of  being  conduct- 
ed through  all  the  trials  of  life  by  infinite  wifdom  and  goodnefs  ; 
and  in  the  joyful  profped;  of  arriving  in  the  end  at  immortal  feli- 
city, they  poffefs  a  happinefs  which,  defcending  from  a  purer 
and  more  perfedt  region  than  this  world,  partakes  not  of  its  vani- 
ty- 

Befides  the  enjoyments  peculiar  to  religion,  there  are  other 

pleafures  of  our  prefent  ftate,  which,  though  cf  an  inferiour 
order,  muft  not  be  overlooked  in  the  eftimate  of  human  life.  It 
is  neceffary  to  call  attention  to  thefe,  in  order  to  check  that  repining 
and  unthankful  fpirit  to  which  m.an  is  always  too  prone.  Some 
degree  of  importance  muft  be  allowed  to  the  comforts  of  health, 
to  the  innocent  gratifications  of  fenfe,  and  to  the  entertainment 
afforded  us  by  all  the  beautiful  fcenesof  nature  ;  fome  to  the  pur- 
fi>its  and  amufements  of  focial  life  ;  and  more  to  the  internal  en- 
joyments of  thought  and  refle6lion,  and  to  the  pleafures  of  affec- 
tionate iniercourle  with  thofe  whom  we  love.  Thefe  comforts 
are  often  held  in  too  low  eftimation,  merely  becaufe  they  are  or- 
dinary 
*  Ecclef,  ii.  26. 


i^  On  the  proper  E/ihnate 

clin;iry  and  common  ;  although  that  be  the  circumftance  whrck 
ought,  in  reafon,  to  enhance  their  value.  They  lie  open,  in 
fonie  degree,  to  all  ;  extend  through  every  rank  of  life,  and  fill 
lip  agreeably  inany  of  thole  fpaces  in  our  prefentexiftence,  which 
are  not  occupied  with  higher  objeds,  or  with  ferious  cares. 

We  are  in  feveral  refpecls  unjuft  to  Providence  in  the  compu- 
tation of  our  pleafures  and  our  pains.  We  number  the  hours 
which  are  fpent  in  diflrefs  or  lorrow  ;  but  we  forget  thofe  which 
have  paflTed  away,  if  not  in  high  enjoyment,  yet  in  the  midft  of 
thofe  gentle  fatisfa^tions  and  placid  emotions  which  make  life  glide 
fmoothly  along.  We  complain  of  the  frequetU  difappointments 
which  we  fuffer  in  our  purfuits.  But  we  recoiled  not,  that  it  is 
in  purfuit,  more  than  in  attainment,  that  our  pleafure  now  confifts. 
In  the  prcfent  fiate  of  human  nature,  man  derives  more  enjoy- 
ment from  the  exertion  of  his  adive  powers  in  the  midft  of  toils 
and  efforts,  than  he  could  receive  from  a  ffill  and  uniform  poiTef- 
fion  of  the  objed  which  he  drives  to  gain.  The  felace  of  the 
mind  under  all  its  labours,  is  hope  ;  and  there  are  few  fituations 
which  entirely  exclude  it.  Foi*ms  of  expeded  bhfs  are  often 
gleaming  upon  us  througli  a  cloud,  to  revive  and  exhilerate  the 
moft  diitrefl'ed.  If  pains  be  fcattered  through  all  the  conditions 
of  life,  ft)  alfo  are  pleafures.  Haf>pinefs,  as  Ut  as  life  affords  it, 
can  be  engrofTed  by  no  rank  of  men  to  the  exclufion  of  the  reft  ; 
oii  the  contrary,  it  is  often  found  where,  at  firlt  view,  it  would 
h.ive  been  leaft  expeded.  When  the  human  condition  appears 
moft  deprefTed,  the  feelings  of  men,  through  the  gracious  appoint^ 
ment  of  Providence,  adjui^  themfelves  wonderfully  to  their  ftate, 
and  enable  them  to  extrad  fatisfadion  from  fourc^s  that  are  to- 
tally unknown  to  others.  Were  the  great  body  of  irien  fairly  to 
compute  the  hours  which  they  pafs  in  eafe,  and  even  with  fome 
degree  of  pleafure,  they  would  be  found  far  to  exceed  the  number 
of  thofe  which  are  fpent  in  abfolure  pain  either  of  body  or  mind. — 
But  in  order  to  make  a  flill  more  accurate  ellimaiion  of  the  degree 
of  fatisfadion  which,  in  the  midll  of  earthly  vanity,  man  is  per- 
mitted to  enjoy,  the  three  following  oblcrvations  claim  our  atten- 
tion : 

The  firft  is,  that  many  of  the  evils  which  occafion  cur  com- 
plaints of  the  world  are  wholly  imaginary.     They  derive  their" 

exiflence 


Of  Human  Life,  1 7 

^xiftence  from  fancy  and  humour,  and  childifli  fubjeaion  to  the 
opinion  of  others.  The  diitrels  which  they  produce,  I  admit, 
is  real  ;  but  its  resliiy  arifes  not  from  the  nature  of  things,  but' 
from  that  diforder  of  imagination  which  a  fmall  meafure  of  rcflec 
tion  might  redlify.  In  proof  of  this  we  may  obferve,  that  the 
perfons  who  live  moft  fimply,  and  follow  the  didates  of  plain  un, 
adulterated  nature,  are  moft  exempted  from  this  clafs  of  evils. 
It  is  among  the  higher  ranks  of  mankind  that  they  chiefly  abound ; 
where  fantaftic  refinements,  fickly  delicacy,  and  eager  emulation, 
open  3  thoufand  fources  of  vexation  peculiar  to  themfelves.  Lite 
cannot  but  prove  vain  fo  them  whoaffecT:  a  difreliHi  of  every  plea- 
fure  that  is  not  both  exquifite  and  new  ;  who  meafure  enjoyment, 
^lot  by  their  own  feelings,  but  by  the  llandard  of  falhion  ;  who 
think  themfelves  miferable  if  others  do  not  admire  their  ftate.  It 
is  not  from  wants  or  forrows  that  their  complaints  arife  ;  but, 
though  it  may  appear  a  paradox,  from  too  much  freedom  ^  from 
forrow  and  want ;  from  the  languor  of  vacant  life,  and  the  irrita- 
tion occafioned  by  thofe  ftagnating  humours  which  eafe  and  indul- 
gence have  bred  within  them.  In  their  cafe,  therefore,  it  is  not 
the  vanity  of  the  world,  but  the  vanity  of  their  minds,  which  is 
to  h6  accufed.  Fancy  has  raifed  up  the  fpeftrcs  which  haunt 
them.  Fancy  has  formed  the  cloud  which  hangs  over  their  life. 
Did  they  allow  the  light  of  reafon  to  break  forth,  the  fpedres 
would  vanifli,   and  the  cloud  be  difpelkd. 

The  fecond  obfei-vation  on  this  head  is,  that  of  thofe  evils  which 
may  be  called  real,  becaufe  they  owe  not  their  exiftence  to  fancy, 
nor  can  be  removed  by  rectifying  opinion,  a  great  proportion  is 
brought  upon  us  by  our  own  mifconduc^.  Difeafes,  poverty,  dix^- 
appohnment  and  (hame,  are  far  from  being,  in  every  inflance,  the 
unavoidable  doom  of  men.  They  are  much  more  frequently  the 
offspring  of  their  own  mifguided  choice.  Intemperance  engenders 
difeafe,"floth  produces  poverty,  pride  createsdifappointments,  and 
diaionefty  expofes  to  fliame.  The  ungoverned  palfions  of  men  be- 
tray them  into  a  thoufimd  follies;  their  follies  into  crimes;  and 
their  crimes  into  misfortunes.  Yet  nothing  is  more  common  than 
for  fuch  as  have  been  the  authors  of  their  own  mifery,  10  make  loud 
complaints  of  the  hard  fate  of  man,  and  to  take  revenge  upon  the 
human  condition  by  arraigning  its  fuppofed  vanity,     Tk  {rjAifincfs 

Q  of 


iS  On  the  proper  EpAniate 

of  manfirj}  pervert eth  his  way,  and  then  his  heart  fretteth  agawjf 

the  Lord. 

I  do  not,  however,  maintain,  that  it  is  within  our  power  to  be 
altogether  free  of  thofe  felf-procured  evils.  For  perfeftion  of  a- 
ny  kind  is  beyond  the  reach  of  man.  Where  is  the  wifdom  that 
never  errs  ?  Where  the  jhft  man  that  ofFendeth  not  ?  Neverthelefs, 
much  is  here  left  to  ourfelves;  and,  imperfeft  as  we  are,  the  con- 
fequences  of  right  or  of  wrong  condud  make  a  wide  difference  in 
the  happinefs  of  men,  Experience  every  day  fliows  that  a  found, 
a  vvelNgoverned,  and  virtuous  mind  contributes  greatly  to  fmooth 
the  path  of  life;  and  that  wifdom  excelltth  foUy  as  far  as  light 
excelleth  darknefs^  The  way  of  the  wicked  is  as  darknefs  ;  they  know 
not  at  what  they  flumhle.  But  the  righteoufnefs  of  the  perfect  jhalt 
direfi  his  way ;  and  he  that  walketh  uprightly,  walketh  fure/y, 
The  tendency  of  the  one  is  towards  a  plain  and  fafe  region. 
The  courfe  of  the  other  leads  him  amidlt  fnares  and  precipic- 
es. The  one  occafionally  may,  the  other  unavoidably  mufl, 
incur  much  trouble.  Let  us  not  then  confound,  under  one 
general  charge,  thofe  evils  of  the  world  which  belong  to  the  lot 
of  humanity,  and  thofe  which,  through  divine  alTiftance,  a  wife 
and  good  man  may,  in  a  great  meafure,  efcape. 

The  third  obfervation  which  I  make  refpetls  thofe  evils  which 
are  both  real  and  unavoidable ;  from  which  neither  wifdom  nor 
goodnefs  can  procure  our  exemption.  Under  thefe  this  comfort 
remains,  that  if  they  cannot  be  prevented,  there  are  means,  how- 
ever, by  which  they  may  be  much  alleviated.  Religion  is  the 
great  principle  which  a6ls,  under  fuch  circumftances,  as  the  cor- 
redtive  of  human  vanity.  It  infph*es  fortitude,  fnpports  patience, 
and  by  its  profpeds  and  promifes  darts  a  cheering  ray  into  the 
darkeft  fliade  of  human  life.  If  it  cannot  fecure  the  virtuous  from 
difappointment  in  their  purfciits,  it  forms  them  to  fuch  a  tempe?:, 
as  renders  their  difappointments  more  light  and  eafy  than  thofe  of 
ether  men.  If  it  does  not  banifh  diifatisf action  from  their 
worldly  pleafures,  it  confers  fpiriiual  pleafnres  in  their  ftead. 
If  it  enlures  them  not  the  polTefFion  of,  what  they  love,  it 
furnifhes  comfort  under  the  lofs.  As  far  as  it  eftabliflies 
a  contented  frame  of  mind,  it  fiipplies  the  want  of  all  that 
^vorldly  men  covet  to  poflefs.     Compare  the  behaviour  of  the  fe.4- " 

fual 


o/^  Human  Life,  icj 

ilii-I  and  corrupted  with  that  of  the  upright  and  holy,  when  both 
are  feeling  the  .effects  of  human  vanity,  and  the  difference  of  their 
lituation  will  be  manifcft.  Among  the  former  you  are  likely 
to  find  a  querulous  and  dejected;  among  the  latter,  a  compofed 
and  manly,  fpirit.  The  lamentations  of  the  one  excite  a  mix- 
ture of  pity  and  contempt;  while  the  dignity  which  the  other 
maintain  in  diftrefs,  commands  refpect.  The  fufferings  of  the  for- 
mer fettle  into  a  peevifh  and  fretful  difpofition  ;  thofe  of  the  lat- 
ter ioft^n  the  temper,  and  improve  the  heart.  Thefe  confequenc- 
es  extend  fo  far  as  to  give  ground  for  aflerting,  that  a  good  man 
enjoys  more  happinefs  in  thecourfe  of  a  feemingly  unprofperous  life^ 
than  a  bad  man  does  in  the  midftof  affluence  and  luxury.  What 
a  confpicuous  proof  of  this  is  afforded  by  the  Apoflle  Paul,  who 
from  the  very  depth  of  affliction  could  fend  forth  fuch  a  trium- 
phant voice  asproclaims  the  complete  vidory  which  he  had  gained 
over  the  evils  of  life  ?  Troubled  on  every  fide,  yet  not  diftrejjed ; 
perplexed,  hut  not  in  defpair ',  perfecuied,  but  not  forfaken ;  caji 
down,  hut  not  dejlroyed.  For  though  our  outward  man  perifJj,  our 
inward  man  is  renewed f  day  by  day. ^^  Such,  though  perhaps  in  an 
inferiour  degree,  will  be  the  influence  of  a  genuine  religious  princi- 
ple upon  all  true  Chriftians.  It  begins  to  perform  that  office  to 
them  here,  which  hereafter  it  will  more  completely  difcharge, 
of  wiping  away  the  i^ars  from  their'  eyes. 

Such,  upon  the  whole,  is  the  eftimate  which  we  are  to  form 
of  human  life.  Much  vanity  will  always  belong  to  it ;  though 
the  degree  of  its  vanity  will  depend,  in  a  great  meafure,  on  our 
own  character  and  cqndu.^t.  To  the  vicious,  it  prefents  nothing 
but  a  continued  fcene  of  difappointment  and  diffatisfa^tion.  To  the 
good,  it  is  a  mixed  ftateof  things  ;  where  many  real  comforts  may 
be  enjoyed ;  where  many  refources  under  trouble  may  be  obtain- 
ed ;  but  where  trouble,  in  one  form  or  other,  is  to  be  expeded  as  the 
lot  of  man.     From  this  view  of  human  life, 

The  firft  pradical  conclufion  which  we  are  to  draw  is,  that  it 
highly  concerns  us  not  to  be  unreafonablc  in  our  expeftations  of 
worldly  felicity.  Let  us  always  remember  where  we  are;  from 
Fhat  caufes  the  human  ftate  has  become  fubjed  to  depreffion  ;  and 

«poa 
*  2  Car,  iv.  8^  g.  i6. 


^9  On  the  proper  Efilmate 

upon  what  accounts  it  miift  remain  under  its  prefcnt  law.  Such  is 
the  infatuation  of  felf-love,  that  though  in  the  general  dodrine  of 
ihe  vanity  of  the  world  all  men  agree,  yet  alinoft  every  one  flat- 
ters himfelf  that  his  own  cafe  is  to  be  an  exception  froni  the  com- 
mon rule.  He  relh  on  expectations  which  he  thinks  cannot  fail 
him  ;  and  though  the  prefcnt  be  not  altogether  according  to  his 
wiflj,  yet  with  the  confidence  of  certain  hope  he  anticipates  futuri- 
ty. Hence  the  anguifi]  of  difappointaient  fills  the  world  ;  and  evils, 
which  are  of  themfelves  fufficiently  fevere,  opprefs  with  double 
force  the  unprepared  and  unfufpeding  mind.  Nothing  therefore 
is  of  greater  confequence  to  our  peace,  than  to  have  always  be- 
fore our  eyes  llich  views  of  the  world  as  fliall  prevent  our  expell- 
ing more  from  it  than  it  is  defcined  to  afford.  We  deftroy  our 
joys  by  devouring  them  beforehand  with  too  eager  expectation. 
"VVe  ruin  the  happinefs  of  life  when  we  attempt  toraife  it  too  high. 
A  tolerable  and  comfortable  ftate  is  all  that  we  can  propofe  to 
curfelves  on  earth.  Peace  and  contentment,  not  blifs  nor  tranf- 
port,  is  the  full  portion  of  man.  Perfect  joy  is  referved  for  heaven. 
But  while  \vq  reprefs  too  fanguine  hopes  formed  upon  human 
life,  let  us,  in  the  fecond  place,  guard  againft  the  other  extreme, 
of  repining  and  difcontent.  Enough  has  been  already  faid  to 
Ihew  that,  notwithflanding  the  vanity  of  the  world,  a  confidera- 
ble  degree  of  comfort  is  attainable  in  the  prefent  Rate,  Let  the 
recoUeccion  of  this  ferve  to  reconcile  us  to  our  condition,  and  to 
check  the  arrogance  of  complaints  and  murmurs. — What  art  thou, 
O  fon  of  man  !  who  having  fprung  but  yefterday  out  of  theduft, 
dareft  to  lift  up  thy  voice  againft  thy  Maker,  and  to  arraign  his 
providence,  becaufe  all  things  are  not  ordered  according  to  thy 
wiili  ?  What  title  haO:  thou  to  find  fault  with  the  order  of  the 
univerfe,  whofe  lot  is  fo  much  beyond  what  thy  virtue  or  merit 
g3ve  thee  ground  to  claim?   Is  it  nothing  to  thee  to  have  been 


in- 


troduced into  this  magnificent  v»orld  f  to  have  been  admitted  as  a 
fpedaror  of  the  divine  wifdoiu  and  works  ;  and  to  have  had  ac- 
cefs  to  all  the  comforts  which  nature,  with  a  bountiful  hand,  has 
poured  forth  around  thee  ?  Are  all  the  hours  forgotten  which 
thou  haft  pafled  in  Cufe,  in  complacency,  or  joy  ?  Is  it  a  fmall 
favour  in  thy  eyes,  that  the  hand  of  divine  mercy  has  been 
ftretched  forth  to  aid  thee,  and,  if  thou  reject:  not  iis  profiered 
affiilance,  is  ready  to  conduct  thee  into  a  happier  ftate  of  exiftence  I 

When 


s/  Human  Life.  2  J 

■When  thou  compareft  thy  condition  with  thy  defert,  bluHi,  and 
.be  aflianied  of  thy  complaints.  Be  fiknt,  be  grateful,  and  adore. 
Receive  with  thankfulnefs  the  blelTings  which  are  allowed  thee. 
Revere  that  government  w  hich  at  prefent  refufes  thee  more.  Rc.ft 
in  this  conclufion,  that  though  there  be  evils  in  the  world,  i^s 
Creator  is  wife  and  good,  and  has  been  bountiful  to  thee. 

In  the  third  place,  the  view  which  we  have  taken  of  human 
life  ihould  naturally  diredl  us  to  fuch  purfuits  as  may  have  mofl: 
influence  for  correding  its  vanity.  There  are  two  great  lines  of 
condufl  which  offer  themfelves  to  our  choice.  The  one  leads  to- 
wards the  goods  of  the  mind  ;  the  other  towards  thofe  of  fortune. 
The  former,  which  is  adopted  only  by  the  few,  engages  us  chief- 
ly in  forming  our  principles,  regulating  our  difpofitions,  improv- 
ing  all  our  inward  powers.  The  latter,  which  in  every  age  has 
been  followed  by  the  multitude,  points  at  no  other  end  but  attain- 
ing the  conveniences  and  pleafures  of  external  life.  It  is  obvious 
that,  in  this  laft  purfuit,  the  vanity  of  the  world  will  encounter 
us  at  every  ftep.  For  this  is  the  region  in  which  it  reigns,  and 
where  it  chiefly  difplays  its  power.  At  the  fame  time,  to  lay  th^ 
world  totally  out  of  view,  is  a  vain  attempt.  The  numberlefs 
ties  by  which  we  are  connected  with  external  things^  put  it  out 
of  our  power  to  behold  them  wiih  iiidifference.  But  though  we 
cannot  wrap  ourfelves  up  entirely  in  the  care  of  the  mind,  yet  the 
more  we  make  its  welfare  our  chief  object,  the  nearer  fliall  we 
approach  to  that  happy  independence  on  the  world,  which  places 
us  beyond  the  reach  of  fuffering  from  its  vanity. 

Thatdifcipline,  therefore,  which  correct  the  eagernefsof  world. 
]y  paflions,  which  fortifies  the  heart  with  virtuous  principles, 
which  enlightens  the  mind  with  qfeful  knowledge,  and  furni/hes 
to  it  matter  of  enjoyment  from  within  itfelf,  is  of  more  confe- 
quence  to  real  felicity  than  all  the  provifion  which  we  can  make 
of  the  goods  of  fortune.  To  this  let  us  bend  our  chief  attention. 
Let  us  keep  the  heart  zuithal/  Ml/gence,  feeing  out  of  it  aretheijfues 
of  life.  Let  us  account  our  mind  the  mofl  important  province 
which  is  committed  to  our  care  ;  and  if  we  cannot  rule  fortune, 
ftu.K  at  leaft  to  rule  ourfelves.  Let  us  propofe  for  our  object,  not 
worldly  fuccefs,  which  it  depends  not  on  v&  to  obtain  :  but  that 
upright  and  honourable  difcharge  of  our  duty  in  every  conjunc- 
ture, which,  through  the  divine  aflif?ance,  is  alwa\^s  within  our 

power. 


2t2  On  the  proper  Ejlifnaie,  6c, 

j^ower.  Let  our  happinefs  be  fought  \vhei*e  our  proper  praife  is 
iound  ;  and  that  be  accounted  our  only  real  evil,  which  is  the  evil 
of  our  nature  ;  not  that,  which  is  either  the  appointment  of  Pro- 
vidence, or  which  arifes  from  the  evil  of  others. 

But  in  order  to  carry  on  with  fuccefs  this  rational  and  nianly 
plan  of  conducl,  it  is  necefiary,  in  the  lai\  place,  that  to  moral, 
\ve  join  religious  difcipline.  Under  the  prefent  imperfection  of 
cur  minds,  and  amidft  the  frequent  fnocks  which  we  receive  from 
human  evils,  much  do  we  ftand  in  need  of  every  afnftance  for 
Supporting  our  conftancy.  Cf  all  affiftance  to  which  we  can  have 
recourfe,  none  is  fo  powerful  as  what  may  be  derived  from  the 
principles  of  the  ChriiVian  faith.  He  who  builds  on  any  other 
foundation,  will  find,  in  the  day  of  trial,  that  he  had  built  his 
houl'e  on  the  fand.  Man  is  formed  by  his  nature  to  look  up  to  a 
Ibperiour  being,  and  to  lean  upon  a  iirength  that  is  greater  than 
his  own.  All  the  confiderations  which  we  can  offer  for  confirm- 
ing his  mind,  prefuppofe  this  refource,  and  derive  from  it  their 
principalefficacy. 

Never  then  let  us  lofe  fight  of  thofe  great  objecfls  which  religion 
brings  under  our  view,  if  we  hope  to  ftand  firm  and  eredt  amidll: 
the  dangers  and  4Jftreires  of  our  prefent  Hate.  Let  us  cultivate 
all  that  coinedion  with  the  great  Father  of  Spirits  which  our  con- 
dition admits ;  by  piety  and  praytr  ;  by  dependence  on  his  aid, 
and  truft  in  hispromifes;  by  a  devout  fenfe  of  hisprefence,  and  a 
continual  endeavour  to  acquire  his  grace  and  favour.  Let  us,  with 
humble  faith  and  reverence,  commit  ourfelves  to  the  bleflcd  Re- 
deemer of  the  world ;  encouraged  by  the  difcoveries  which  he  has 
made  to  us  of  the  divine  mercy,  and  by  the  hopes  which  he  has 
afforded  us  of  being  raifed  to  a  nobler  and  happier  fiation  in  the 
kingdom  of  God.  So  fliall  virtue,  grounded  upon  piety,  attain  its 
full  ftre\)gth.  Infpired  with  a  religious  fpirit,  and  guided  by  ra- 
tional principles,  we  ihall  be  enabled  to  hold  a  iteady  courfe  through 
this  mixed  region  of  pleafure  and  pain,  of  hopes  and  fears  ;  until 
the  period  arrWe,  when  that  cloud,  which  the  prefent  vanity  of 
the  world  throws  over  human  aiTlvlrs,  (liall  entirely  difappear,  and 
eternal  light  be  diiu-^cd  overall  the  works>  and  ways  of  God. 

SERMON 


SERMON       XXIIt 
On    Death. 

Psalm  xxiii,  4. 

Tea,  though  I  watfi  through  the  valley  of  the  Jhadow  of  death,  I  wilt 
fear  no  evil;  for  thou  art  with  tj^  ;  thy  rod  and  thy  fhff they  com- 
fort me. 

THIS  Pfalm  exhibits  tlie  pleafing  pi^liire  of  a  pious  man  rejoic- 
ing in  the  goodnefs  of  Heaven,  He  locks  around  him  on 
his  ftate,  and  his  heart  overflows  with  gratitude.  When  he  re- 
views the  paft  part  of  his  life,  he  contennplates  G©d  as  his 
fiepherd,  who  hath  made  him  lie  down  in  green  pafiures,  and  led  him 
bejide  the /}ill  waters.  When  he  confiders  the  prefent,  he  beholds 
his  divine  benefador  preparing  a  table  for  him  in  the  prefenceof  his 
enemies,  and  making  his  cup  run  over.  When  he  looks  forward 
to  the  future,  he  confides  in  the  fame  goodnefs,  as  continuing 
to  follow  him  all  the  days  of  his  life,  and  bringing  him  to  dwell  In  the 
houfe  of  the  Lord  for  ever.  Amidft  thefe  images  of  tranquillity 
and  happinefs,  one  objed  prefents  itfelf,  which  is  fufficient  to 
overcaft  the  minds  -and  to  damp  the  joy  of  the  greateft  part 
of  men;  that  is,  the  approach  of  death.  But  on  the  Pfalm» 
ift  it  produced  no  fuch  efFe6l.  With  perfecl:  compofure  and  fere= 
iiity,  he  looks  forward  to  the  time  when  he  is  to  pafs  through  the 
valley  of  the  fhadow  of  death.  The  profpe6l,  inftead  of  dejeding 
him,  appears  to  heighten  his  triumph,  by  that  fecurity  which  the 
pfefence  of  his  almighty  guardian  afforded  him.  /  will  fear  no  e- 
vily  for  thou  art  with  me :  and  purfuing  the  allufion  with  which  h^ 
had  begun,  exults  in  the  hope  that  the  fhepherd  who  had  hither- 
to conducT:ed  him,  would  fupport  him  with  \i\^f}aff,  while  he  pafT- 
cd  through  that  dark  and  perilous  region,  and  with  his  rod,  or 
paftoral  crook,  would  guard  him  from  every  danger. 

Such  is  the  happy  diftindion  which  good  men  enjoy,  in  a  fitua- 
Won  the  mofl  formidable  to  human  nature.     That   threatening- 

fpe^lre 


24  ^'^  Death, 

fpec^re  which  appalls  others,  carries  no  terrour  to  them.  While 
worldly  men  are  jnfily  faid  through  fear  of  Death  to  be  all  their  I'lfe- 
iimsjubjcii  to  bondage,  to  the  righteous  only  it  belongs  to  look  on 
death,  and  fmile.  Since  then  it  is  in  tlie  power  of  religion  to 
confer  upon  us  To  high  a  privilege,  let  us  adventure  to  contemplate 
lieadily  this  laft  foe  wliom  we  muft  all  encounter.  Let  us  confider 
what  death  is  in  irfelf,  and  by  what  means  good  men  are  enabled 
to  meet  it  with  fortitude.  Though  the  fubjedl  may  be  reckoned 
gloomy,  it  muft  be  admitted  to  be  interefting.  The  clofe  of  life 
is  a  iblemn  and  important  event,  to  which  every  wife  man  will 
have  regard  in  the  general  tenour  of  his  condud.  No  one  can 
act  his  part  with  propriety,  who  confiders  not  how  it  is  to  termi- 
ilate  ;  and  to  exclude  from  cjr  thoughts  Vv'hat  we  cannot  prevent 
from  adually  taking  place,  is  the  refuge  of  none  but  the  timo- 
rous and  weak.  We  are  more  encouraged  to  enter  on  this  medita- 
tion, by  refleding  on  the  fuperiour  advantages  which,  as  Chrif- 
tians,  we  enjoy  for  overcoming  the  fear  of  death,  beyond  that 
holy  man  whofe  fentiment  is  now  before  us.  Thofe  great  ob- 
jecT;s,  which  he  beheld  through  the  medium  of  types  and  figures, 
are  clearly  revealed  to  us.  Tliat  difpenfation  of  grace,  which  in 
his  days  began  to  open,  is  now  completed.  That  life  and  immor- 
tality, which  then  only  dawned  on  the  world,  have  now  Ihone 
forth  with  full  light  and  fplendour. 

Death  may  be  coniidered  in  three  views  :  as  t!:e  feparation  of 
the  foul  from  the  body  ;  as  the  ccnclufion  gf  the  prefent  life  ;  as 
the  entrance  into  a  new  ftate  of  exigence.  In  the  firrt  view,  it 
is  regarded  as  painful  and  agonizing.  In  the  fecond,  it  is  melan- 
choly and  dejeaing.  In  the  third,  it  is  av.ful  and  alarming. 
One  of  the  firft  enquiries  which  occurs  concerning  it  is,  for  what 
purpofcs  it  was  clothed  with  all  thefe  terrours  ?  Why,  under  the 
government  of  amadous  Being,  the  termination  of  life  was  load- 
ed with  fo  much  forrow  and  diftrefs?  We  know  that,  in  confe- 
quence  of  the  fall,  death  was  inflicled  as  apunifhment  upon  the 
human  race.  But  no  unnecelTary  fcverities  are  ever  exercifed  by 
God  ;  and  the  wifdom  and  goodnefs  of  the  divine  plan  will  be  much 
illuflrated,  by  obferving  thatall  the  formidable  circnmflances  which 
attend  death  are,  in  the  prefent  fituation  of  mankind,  abfolutely 
requifite  to  the  proper  government  of  the  world.     The  terrours 

of 


■^Oii  Death.  25 

bf  death  arc,  in  facl,  the  grejt  guardians  of  life.  They  excite  in 
every  individual  f!iat  (jcfire  of  felf-prcfervation,  which  is  nature's 
firfl  law.  They  reconcile  luai  to  bear  the  diitreffes  of  life  with 
patience.  They  prompt  him  to  undergo  ils  ufeful  and  necelfary 
labours  with  alacrity ;  and  they  reArain  him  from  many  of  thofis 
evil  courfes  by  which  his  fafety  would  be  endangered.  While  they 
are  in  (o  many  refpe^^s  beneficial  to  the  individual,  they  are,  at 
the  fame  time,  the  fafeguard  of  fociety.  If  death  were  not  dread- 
ed  and  abhorred  as  it  is  by  men,  no  public  order  could  be  preferv- 
ed  in  the  world.  The  fword  of  authority  v;ere  lifted  up  in  vain. 
The  fancfhons  of  law  would  loofe  their  eftecH:.  The  fcaflbki  and  thd 
executioner  would  be  derided  ;  and  the  violent  left  to  trample  un- 
reftrained  on  the  rights  of  the  peaceful.  If,  notwithfianding  the 
reltraints  which  feif-prefervation  impofes,  fociety  is  fo  often  dif- 
turbed  by  the  crimes  of  the  wicked,  what  a  fcene  of  confufion 
would  it  become,  if  capital  puniiliments,  which  are  the  lail  refcurce 
of  government,  were  of  no  influence  to  deter  offenders? 

For  fach  important  ends  the  conclufion  of  life  has,  by  the  ap- 
pointment of  Providence,  been  made  an  awful  object.  The  val- 
ley of  death  has  been  planted  vvith  terrours  to  the  appreherfion  of 
men.  Here, as  iii  many  other  inflancfes,  what  feemed  atfirfltonr- 
raign  the  goodnefs  of  the  Deity,  is  upon  enquiry  found  to  confirm 
it.  But  though^  for  the  mod  falutary  purpofes,  it  v/as  requifite 
that  the  fear  of  death  fliould  be  a  powerful  principle  in  hijman  na- 
ture, yet,  like  our  ether  propenfities,  it  is  apt,  when  left  to  ir- 
felf,  to  rtin  into  excefs.  Over  many  it  iifurps  luch  an  afcendanc 
as  to  debafe  their  charader,  and  to  defeat  the  chief  ends  of  living. 
To  piTferve  it  within  fuch  bounds  that  it  fliall  riot  interrupt  us  in 
performing  the  proper  offices  2nd  duties  of  life,  is  the  didinclion 
of  the  brave  man  above  the  coward  ;  and  to  furmotint  it  in  fuch  a 
degree  that  it  fhall  not,  even  in  near  proipeft,  dcjed  our  fpirir, 
or  trouble  our  peace,  is  the  great  preference  ^lich  virtue  enjoys 
above  guilt.  It  has  been  the  ftudy  of  the  wife  and  relieving,  in 
every  age,  to  attain  this  fleadinefs  tjf  mind.  Philofophy  purfued 
it  as  its  chief  object ;  and  profelTed,  that  the  great  end  of  its  difci- 
pline  was,  to  enable  its  votaries  to  conquer  the  fear  of  death.  Let 
iis  then,  before  we  have  reccurfe  to  the  more  powerful  aid  of  re- 
ligion, hearken  for  a  little  to  what  reafon  has  fuggefied  on  this 
iubjed.  Tier  alTiftance  may.  perhaps,  be  not  entirely  defpicable; 
"'      D  and 


a 6  On  Death, 

and  though  the  armour  which  flie  offer?,  be  notcoiupletely  of  proofs 
it  may  ferve,  however,  to  turn  afide,  or  to  blunt,  feme  of  the 
ihafis  which  are  aimed  againft  us  by  the  laft  foe. 

After  this  manner  fiie  may  be  fuppofed  toaddrefs  mankind,  in 
order  to  reconcile  them  to  their  fate. — Children  of  men  !  it  is  well 
known  to  you,  that  you  are  a  mortal  race.  Death  is  the  law  of 
your  nature,  the  tribute  of  your  being,  the  debt  which  all  are  bound 
to  pay.  On  thefe  terms  you  received  life,  that  you  Ihould  be  rea- 
dy to  give  it  up,  when  Providence  calls  you  to  make  room  for  o- 
thers,  who,  in  like  manner,  when  their  time  is  come,  fhall  follow 
you.  He  who  is  unv.'illing  to  fubmit  to  death  when  Heaven  de- 
crees it,  defcrves  not  to  have  lived.  You  might  as  reafonably 
complain,  that  you  did  not  live  before  the  liriif  appointed  for  your 
coming  into  the  world,  as  lament  that  you  are  not  to  live  longer, 
when  the  period  of  your  quitting  it  is  arrived.  What  divine  pro- 
vidence hath  made  neceffary,  human  prudence  ought  to  comply 
with  cheerfully.  Submit  at  any  rate  you  muft  ;  and  is  it  not  much 
better  to  follow  of  your  own  accord,  than  to  be  dragged  reludant- 
ly,  and  by  force  ?  W  hat  privilege  have  you  to  plead,  or  v\  hat  rea- 
i'oi\  to  urge,  why  you  Oiould  pcffefs  .an  exemption  from  the  com- 
mon doom  ?  All  things  around  ycm  are  mortal  and  perifliing.  Ci- 
ties, dates,  ^nd  empires  have  their  period  fet.  The  proudcll:  mo- 
nu;nentsof  hum.an  art  moulder  into  duft.  Even  the  works  of  na- 
ture wax  old  and  decay.  In  the  midft  of  this  univerfal  tendency 
to  change,  could  you  expe6l  that  to  your  frame  alone  a  permanent 
duration  (lionid  be  given?  All  who  have  gone  before  you  have 
fnbmitted  to  the  flroke  of  death.  All  who  are  to  come  after  you, 
fliall  undergo  the  lame  fate.  The  great  and  the  good,  the  prince 
and  the  peaiant,  the  renowned  and  the  obfcure,  travel  alike  the 
road  which  leads  to  the  grave.  At  the  moment  when  you  expire, 
th.oufap.ds  througlMit  the  world  (liall,  together  with  you,  be  yield- 
ing up  their  breath.  Can  that  be  held  a  great  calamity  which  is 
common  to  you  with  every  thing  that  lives  on  earth  ;  which  is  an 
event  as  much  according  to  the  courfe  of  nature,  as  it  is  that  leaves 
(]]ould  fall  in  autumn,  or  iliat  fruit  fliould  drop  from  the  tree 
when  it  is  fully  ripe  ? 

The 


On  Death.  nv 

The  pain  of  death  cannot  be  veyy  long,  and  is  probably  lefs 
fevere  than  what  you  have  at  other  times  experienced.  The 
pomp  of  death  is  more  terrifying  than  death  itfelf.  It  is  to  the 
weaknefs  of  imagination,  that  it  owes  its  chief  power  of  dejed:ing 
your  fpirits ;  for  when  the  force  of  the  mind  is  roufed,  there  is 
almoftnopailion  in  our  nature  but  what  has  fliowed  itfelf  able  to  o- 
vercome  the  fear  of  death.  Honour  has  defied  death;  love  has 
defpifed  it ;  fhame  has  rufhed  upon  it ;  revenge  has  difregarded  it ; 
grief  athoufand  times  has  wifiied  for  its  approach.  Is  it  not  ftranire 
that  reafon  and  virtue  carmot  give  you  itrength  to  fnrmount 
that  fear,  which,  even  in  feeble  minds,  fo  many  pafTions  have 
conquered?  What  inconfiflency  is  there  in  complaining  fo  much 
of  the  evils  of  life,  and  being  at  the  fame  time  fo  afraid  of  what  is  to 
terminate  them  all  ?  Who  can  tell  whether  his  future  life  might  not 
teem  with  difafters  and  miferies,  as  yet  unknown,  where  it  to  be  pro- 
longed accordingto  his  wifh  ?  At  any  rate,  is  it  defirable  to  draw  life 
out  to  the  laft  dregs,  and  to  wait  till  old  age  pour  upon  you  its  whole 
ftore  of  difeafes  and  forrows?  You  lament  that  you  are  to  die  ;  but  did 
you  view  your  fituation  properly,  you  would  have  much  greater 
caufe  to  lameiH  if  you  were  chained  to  this  life  for  two  or  three 
hundred  years,  without  pofTibility  of  releafe.  Exped:  therefore 
calmly  that  which  is  natural  in  itfelf,  and  which  muft  be  fit,  becaufe 
it  is  the  appointment  of  Heaven.  Perform  your  duty  as  a  good 
fubjecl  of  the  Deity,  during  the  time  allotted  you ;  and  rejoice 
that  a  period  is  fixed  for  your  difmiffion  from  the  prefent  warfare. 
Remember  that  the  flavifh  dread  of  death  dellroys  all  the  comfort 
cf  that  life  which  you  feek  to  preferve.  Better  to  undergo  the 
ftroke  oi-  death  at  once,  than  to  live  in  perpetual  mifcry  from  the 
fear  of  dying. 

Such  difcourfes  as  thefe  are  fpecious  at  leaft,  and  plaufible.  The 
arguments  are  not  without  ftrength,  and  ought  to  produce  fome 
effed  on  a  confiderate  reflecting  mind.  But  k  is  to  be  fufped- 
ed  that  their  effed:  will  be  chiefly  felt  when  the  mind  is  cairn  and 
at  eafe;  rather  when  fpecuiating  upon  death  at  a  diftance,  than 
when  beholding  it  at  hand.  When  the  critical  moment  arrives 
which  places  the  anxious,  trembling  foul  on  the  borders  of  an  un- 
known world,  reafonings  drawn  from  necefllty  and  propriety  will 

be 


28  On   Death. 

b*e  of  ruiall  avail  to  quiet  its  alarms.  In  order  to  afford  relief,  you 
iiiurf:  give  it  hope  ;  yoa  nmd  proniife  it  proteclion  ;  you  muft  of- 
fer foaievvhat  on  which  it  can  lay  hold  for  lupport  ainidil  the  ilrug- 
gles  of  labouring  nature.  Hence  the  great  importance  of  thofe 
(lifcoveries  which  revelation  has  made,  and  of  thofe  principles  with 
whicli  it  fortifies  the  heart.  To  the'confideration  of  thefe  let  us 
next  proceed,  and  obferve  their  fuperior  efficacy  for  furmounting 
the  fear  of  death.  In  order  to  judge  of  their  importance,  it  will 
he  proper  to  take  a  view  of  death  in  each  of  thofe  lights  in  which 
it  appears  mod  formidable  to  mankind. 

It  may  be  confidered,  nrf!:,  as  the  termination  of  our  prefent 
exi;lence  ;  the  final  period  of  ail  its  joys  and  hopes.  The  conclud- 
in<T  fcene  of  any  courfe  of  adion  in  which  we  have  been  eno;ai;ed 
with  pleafure,  even  tlie  laft  fight  of  objccls  which  we  have  been 
long  accuflomed  to  behold,  fcldom  fails  of  flriking  the  mJnd  wiih 
painful  regret.  How  many  circumilances  will  concur  to  heighten 
that  regret,  when  the  time  comes  of  our  bidiiing  an  eternal  adieu  to 
the  light  of  day  ;  to  every  purfuit  which  had  occupied  our  atten- 
tion as  citizens  of  the  world  ;  and  to  every  friend  and  relation 
who  had  attached  our  hearts  ?  How  dcjecTiing  is  the  thouglit  to  the 
greateiL  part  of  men,  that  the  fun  Ihall  rife,  and  the  feafons  fliall 
return  to  otliers,  but  no  n)ore  to  them  ;  and  that,  while  their 
neighbours  are  engaged  in  the  ufual  affairs  of  life,  they  (hall  be  fluit 
up  in  a  dark  lonefome  m;^nrion,  forgotten  and  cut  off  fromi  among 
men,  as  though  they  had  never  been  !  1  /aid,  in  the  cutthig  iff  my 
days  J  J  Jhall  ro  to  ih  gates  of  the  grave.  I  am  deprived  of  the  rtfidue 
of  ',ny  years.  1  Jhall  not  fee  the  Lord  again  in  the  land  of  the  living. 
J  fhall  behold  man  no  more  with  the  inhabitants  of  the  zuorld,* 

Let  us  now  obferve,  that  the  dejeclion  into  which  we  are  apt 
to  fink  at  ffich  a  juncture,  will  bear  proportion  to  the  degree  of  our 
attachment  to  tlie  objects  w  hich  we  leave,  and  to  the  importance 
of  thofe  refources  which  remain  with  us  when  they  are  gone.  He 
who  is  taking  farewel  of  a  country  through  whicli  he  had  travel- 
led with  fatisfadlion,  and  he  who  is  driven  from  his  native  land, 
with  which  he  had  connected  every  idea  of  fettlement  and  comfort^ 

will 

*    Ifalahj  xxxviii.   lo^  ii. 


On  Death,  29 

will  have  veiy  ditFerent  feelings  at  the  time  of  departure.  Such  is 
the  difference  which,  at  the  hour  of  death,  takes  place  between 
the  ri'dneous  and  the  ungodly.  The  latter  knows  nothing  higher 
or  better  than  the  prefent  Itate  of  exiftence.  His  interelfs,  his 
pleafures,  his  exped:ations,  all  centered  here.  He  lived  folely  for 
the  enjoyments  ot  this  world.  Dreadful,  therefore,  and  infupport- 
able  mud  be  that  event  which  feparates  him  from  thefe  for  ever- 
Whereas  the  culture  of  religion  had  previouQy  formed  the  mind  ot 
a  chriilian  for  a  calm  and  ealy  tranfition  from  this  life.  It  had  in- 
liruc^ed  him  in  the  proper  eftimate  of  fublunary  happinefs.  It 
had  kt  higher  profpects  before  him.  It  had  formed  him  to  a  more 
refined  tafte  of  enjoyment,  than  what  the  common  round  of 
worldly  amufements  could  gratify.  It  gave  him  connexions  and 
alliances  with  fpiritual  objeds,  which  are  unknown  to  the  men 
of  the  world.  Hence,  though  he  be  attached  to  life  by  the  natu- 
ral feelings  of  humanity,  he  is  raifed  above  the  weak  and  unman- 
ly regret  of  parting  with  it.  He  knew  that  it  was  intended  as  pre- 
paratory only  to  a  fucceeding  ftate.  As  foon  as  the  fealon  of  pre- 
paration fiiould  be  finifhed,  he  expected  a  removal;  and  when 
Providence  gives  the  fignaljhe  bids  adieu  to  the  world  with  com- 
pofed  refolution  and  undilturbed  heart. — What  though  deatii 
interrupt  him  in  the  middle  of  his  defigns,  and  break  off  the  plans 
which  he  had  formed,  of  being  ufeful  to  his  family  and  the  world? 
All  thefe  he  leaves  with  tranquillity  in  the  hands  of  that  Provider.ce 
to  which  he  has  ever  been  accuftomed  to  look  up  with  relignation ; 
vhich  governed  the  world  wifely  and  gracicufly  before  he  exiiied  ; 
and  which  he  knows  will  continue  to  govern  it  with  equal  wifdom 
and  benignity  when  he  fhall  be  in  it  no  more.  The  time  of  his  de- 
parture was  not  left  to  his  own  choice  ;  but  he  believes  it  to  be  the 
iTJoft  proper,  becaufe  it  is  the  time  chofsn  by  Him  who  cannot  err. 
Honourable  age  is  rfn  that  ivhlch  Jianckth  in  length  of  time,  nor  that 
which  Is  nicnfured  by  mimbsr  of  years.  But  wifdom  is  the  grey  hair  to 
7nan;  and  an  unfp-jtted  life  is  old  age.*  When  he  beholds  his 
friends  and  relations  mourning  around  him,  his  heart  may  melr, 
but  will  not  be  overpowered  ;  for  it  is  relieved  by  the  thought  thac 
he  is  bidding  them  only  a  temporary,  not  an  eternal  farewel.  He 
commends  them  in  the  mean  time,  to  the  blefling  of  that  God 

whom 

^^  U'lfdoin  of  Sok-monj  iv.  8^  9, 


30  On  Death. 

whom  he  has  fervccl ;  and  while  lie  is  parting  from  them,  hehenrs 
a  voice  wliich  fooths  his  fpirit  witli  thofe  comforting  words.  Leave 
thy  fatherlefs  chilch  en ;  I  w'lll  preferve  ihcm  alive  ;  and  let  thy  ivi- 
do'jj  truji  in  mc* 

But  death  is  more  thn.n  the  conclufion  of  human  life.  It  is  the 
gate  which,  at  ilie  fame  time  that  it  clofes  on  this  world,  opens 
into  eternity.  Under  this  view,  it  has  often  been  thefubjed  of  ter- 
rour  to  the  ferious  and  refledting.  The  tranfition  they  were  about 
to  make  was  awful.  Before  them  lay  a  vaft  undifcovered  region, 
from  whofe  bourn  no  traveller  ever  returned  to  bring  information 
of  the  reception  which  he  f>)und,  or  of  the  objefts  which  he  met 
with  there.  The  firi'l  conception  which  fuggcds  itfelf  is,  that 
the  diiTetnbodied  fpirir  is  to  appear  before  its  Creator,  who  is  then 
to  aft  as  its  Judge.  The  ftrict  inquifition  which  it  muft  undergo, 
the  impartial  duoai  which  it  muft  hear  pronounced,  and  the  un- 
alterable fcate  to  vvhich  it  (liall  be  affigned,  are  awful  forms  rifing 
before  the  imagination.  They  are  ideas  which  con fcience forces  up- 
on all.  Mankind  can  neither  avoid  confidering  themfelves  as  ac- 
countablecreatures, nor  avoid  vievvino  death  as  thefeafon  when  their 
jicconnt  is  to  be  ci^'cn.  Such  a  fentiment  is  with  mou  men  the 
fource  of  dread;  Vv'ith  all  men,  of  anxiety.  To  a  certain  degree 
a  good  confcience  will  convey  comfort.  The  refleclion  on  a  well- 
fpent  life  makes  a  wide  dilFerence  between  the  laft  moments  of  the 
righteous  and  the  (inner.  But  whofe  confcience  is  fo  clear  as  to 
flrike  him  with  no  remorfe  ?  Whofe  righteoufncfs  is  fo  unble- 
miflied  as  to  abide  the  fcrutiny  of  the  great  fearcher^of  hearts? 
Vv'ho  dares  rcfi:  his  evcrlafting  fate  upon  his  perfect  conformity  to 
the  rule  of  duty  throughout  the  whole  of  his  life? 

We  muft  not  judge  of  the  fcntiments  of  men  at  the  approach 
of  death  bv  their  ordinary  train  of  thou(rht  in  the  days  of  health 
and  eafe.  Their  views  of  moral  conduvSl  are  then,  too  generally, 
fuperficial  ;  flight  cxcufes  fatisfy  their  minds,  and  the  avocations 
oriife  prevent  tlieir  attention  fron)  dwelling  long  on  difagreeable 
fubjccls.  But  when  altogether  withdrawn  from  the  affairs  of  the 
world,  they  are  left  to  their  own  rcHeaions  on  paft  conduft  ;  with 

their 

*  Jerem,  xlix.  ii. 


On  Death.  3I 

their  fpirits  enfeebled  by  direnfe,  and  their  minds  imprefTed  with 
the  terrours  of  an  invilible  region  ;  the  mofc  refolute  are  apt  to  de- 
fpond,  and  even  the  virtuous  are  in  danger  of  fir.king  under  the  re- 
membrance of  their  errours  and  frailties.  The  trembling  mind 
carts  every  where  around  an  anxious  exploring  eye  after  any  pow- 
er  that  can  uphold,  any  mercy  that  Vv'ill  fliield  and  fave  it.  And 
accordingly  we  fee  how  eagerly  every  device  has  been  embraced 
which  fuperftition  could  invent  in  various  countries,  for  quieting 
the  alarms  of  the  depardng  fpirit* 

Here  appears  the  great  importance  of  thofe  dlfcovenes  vvhicn 
Chriftianity  has  made  concerning  the  government  of  the  univerfe. 
It  difplays  the  enfigns  of  grace  and  clemency.  It  reveals  the  Al- 
mighty not  as  a  creator  only  and  a  judge,  but  as  a  compaiTionate 
parent,  who  knows  our  frame j  who  remembers  we  are  duji,  who  pi- 
ties us  as  a  father  pitieth  his  children;  and  with  whom  there  is  forgiv- 
nefsy  that  he  may  be  loved  as  well  as  feared,  Thefe  general  views, 
however,  of  the  divine  adniinillration  would  not  have  been  fuflici- 
ent  to  give  full  relief,  if  they  had  not  been  confirmed  by  certain 
decidve  fadls  to  which  the  mind  can  appeal  amidH  all  its  doubts  and 
fears.  Two  fuch  fa6ls  the  gofpel  holds  forth  to  us,  particularly 
adapted  to  the  (ituatioJi  of  human  nature  in  its  greateft  extremity; 
the  atonement,  and  the  intercefiion  of  Chrift.  There  is  no  fenti- 
ment  more  natural  to  men  than  this,  that  guilt  mud  be  expiated 
by  fuffering.  All  government  is^  founded  on  the  principle,  that 
public  juftice  requires  compenfation  for  crimes;  and  all  religions 
proceed  upon  the  belief,  that,  in  order  to  the  pardon  of  the  fin- 
ner,  atonement  mufl:  be  made  to  the  juliice  of  heaven.  Hence  the 
endlefs  variety  of  facrifices,  vidims,  and  expiations  which  have  fill- 
ed the  earth.  The  great  facrifice  which  our  Redeemer  offered 
for  guilt,  coincides  with  thefe  natural  fentiments  of  mankind 
in  giving  eafe  to  the  heart.  It  iliows  us  the  forfeit  of  guilt  paid 
by  a  divine  perfonage  in  our  behalf;  and  allov^s  us  to  look  up  to 
the  Governor  of  the  world,  as  merciful  to  the  guilty  in  conliften- 
cy  with  julficc  and  order.  But  If  ill  fome  anxiety  might  remain 
concerning  the  extenfion  of  that  mercy  to  our  own  cafe  in  parti- 
cular.  An  invifible  fovereign  is  an  awful  idea  :  almighty,  unknown 
power,  is  always  formidable,  and  would  be  ready  to  overwhelm 
the  fpirit  of  th.e  feeble,  were  not  an  interceHor  with  that  fovereign 

revealed. 


32  Cn  Death* 

revealed.  This  intercefior  is  one  who  lived  aiid  acted  in  our  owfj 
nature;  who  not  only  knows,  but  who  experienced  our  frailty  ; 
who  has  all  the  feelings  of  a  brother  for  human  infirmity  and  dif- 
trefs;  who  himfelf  pafTed  through  that  valley  of  the  f''>adoiv  of  death 
which  is  now  opening  on  us  ;  to  whofe  powerful  mediation  with 
his  Father  we  have  every  encouragement  to  commit  the  charge  of 

our  departing  fpirir. Such  is  the  provifion  which  Chriftianity  has 

made  for  conu'orting  the  laft  hours  of  mr.n.  The  atonement^  and 
the  iiiterceiiion  ofChrift,are  the  refuge  of  the  penitent  (inner,  and 
the  confolation  of  the  faint.  By  their  means  the  throne  of  the  u- 
niverfe  is  encircled  with  mercy.  The  cloud  which  hung  over  the 
juvifible  world  begins  to  be  difpcrfed;  and  hope  brightens  through 
the  gloom,* 

But  what  completes  the  triumph  of  good  men  over  death  is, 
the  profpecl  of  eternal  felicity.  This  was  the  great  objed  after 
which  all  nations  have  fighed,  as  the  only  complete  remedy  both 
of  the  miferies  of  life  and  the  fears  of  death.  On  this,  the  learned 
and  the  ignorant,  the  civilizeti  and  the  favage  tribes  of  mankind 
bent  their  lorging  eyes;  eagerly  grafping  at  every  argument,  and 
fondly  indulging  every  hope,  that  could  promife  them  a  propitious 
Deiry,  and  the  prolongation  of  exigence  in  a  happier  ftate.  But 
beyond  wiilics  and  feeble  expeftations,  the  light  of  nature  could 
hardly  reach.  Even  the  mod  cultivated,  philofophical  mind  was, 
at  tlie  hourof  difTolution,  left  in  painful  fufpence.  Chrifiianity  has 
put  an  end  to  all  hcfitation  and  doubt  on  this  important  fubjed:. 
It  has  drawn  afide  the  veil  through  v\  hich  reafon  effayed  to  pene- 
trate ;  and  has  difplayed  to  full  view  the  future  dwellings  of  the 
fpirits  of  the  jurt,  the  mai^.fions  of  everlafting  reft,  the  city  of  the 
living  Cod.  Not  only  has  it  informed  us  that  a  ftate  of  perfed:  fe- 
licity is  prepared  for  the  righteous,  but  it  has  adtled  to  this  infor- 
mation a  variety  of  circumiiances  which  render  that  ftate  fenfible 
to  our  ima<Tination,  and  encouraging  to  our  hopes.  It  reprefents 
it  as  fully  fecured  by  the  gracious  undert^kipg  o(-  the  Saviour 
of  the  world.  It  defcribes  it  as  an  hihciitr.nce,  to  which  he 
has  given  his  followers  a  right  and  title.  Ke  is  faid  to  have 
taken  pofi^fhon  of  it  in  their  nanie.  He  rofe  from  the  grave  as 
ihefrji  fruits  rf  ihcm  that  fcep  ;  and  u.ulcr  the  ch^-jrader  of  their 

fore-  runner^ 


On  Death,  33 

fire-rufmer,  entered  into  the  heavenly  regions.  /  am  the  re/ur- 
re£iion  and  the  life.  He  that  helieveth  on  me,  though  he  were  dead, 
yet  fJmll  he  live,  I  give  unto  my  /beep  eternal  life,  1  ajl\nd  to  my 
Father  and  your  Father,  to  my  Cod  and  your  Cod.  * 

Hence,  to  thofe  who  have  lived  a  virtuous  life,  and  who  die  in 
the  faith  of  Chrilt,  the  whole  afpect  of  death  is  changed.  Death 
is  to  them  no  longer  the  tyrant  who  approaches  with  his  iron  rod, 
but  the  nieflenger  who  brings  the  tidings  of  life  and  liberty.  The 
profpeds  which  open  to  them  cheer  their  minds.  Even  in  the 
valley  of  death's  (liade,  green  paJJures  appear  to  rife.  They  view 
themfeJves  as  going  forth,  not  to  lie  lilent  and  folitary  in  the  dark* 
nefs  of  the  grave,  not  to  wander  forfaken  in  the  wide  deferts  of 
the  univerfe,  not  even  to  pafs  into  a  region  where  they  are  alto- 
gether Grangers  and  unknown  ;  but  to  enter  on  a  land,  new  in- 
deed to  fight,  but  by  faith  and  hope  frequented  long  before ;  where 
they  fliall  continue  to  be  under  the  charge  of  him  who  hath  hither- 
to been  their  guardian,  be  re-united  to  many  of  their  ancient  and 
beloved  friends,  and  admitted  to  join  the  innumerable  multitude,  ga* 
thered  out  of  all  nations,  and  tongues,  and  people,  who  /land  before  the 
throne  of  Cod,  They  leave  behind  the  dregs  of  their  nature  ;  and 
exchange  this  confined  and  gloomy  apartment  of  the  univerfe,  for 
the  glorious  manfions  of  their  Father's  houfe.  BlefiTed  furely  are 
the  dying  in  this  hope,  and  hleffed  the  dead  in  this  fruition,  rtjiing 
from  their  labours,  and  followed  by  their  works.  Good  men  are  de- 
tained at  prefent  in  the  outer  court  of  the  temple  :  Death  admits 
them  into  the  holy  place.  As  yet  they  fojourn  in  the  territories 
of  pilgrimage  and  exile  :  Death  brings  them  home  to  the  native 
land  of  Spirits.  In  this  world  they  are  divided  from  one  another, 
and  mingled  with  the  worthlefs  and  the  vile  :  Death  unites  in  one 
alTembly  all  the  pure  and  the  juft.  In  the  fight  of  the  univerfe  they 
fcemed  to  die,  and  their  departure  was  taken  fr  utter  defifu£lion* 
But  they  are  in  peace,  Their  reward  alfo  is  with  the  Lord,  and  the 
care  of  them  with  the  Mo/t  High,  f — 0  Death  J  where  is  now  thyftingf 
0  Crave !  where  is  thy  vi^oryF  Where  are  the  terrours  with  which 
thou  haft  fo  long  affrighted  the  nations?  Where  are  thy  dreary  and 
defolate  domains,  the  haunts  of  fpedres  and  fbades,  the  abhorred 
dwellings  of  darkneis  and  corruption?  At  the  touch  of  the  divine 
rod,  thy  vifionary  horrcurs  have  fled.     The  Ipell  is  broken.    The 

E  dawn 

*  John,  X!,  25. — XX.  17.      f  IFifdcm  of  Solomon,  iii,  2,  3. — v.  15. 


24  ,  Ort  Death » 

dawn  of  the  celeftial  morning  has  difpelled  thy  difmal  gloom  ;  and, 
iijftead  of  the  habitations  of  dragons,  appears  the  paradife  of  God. 

But  fuppofing  both  the  regret  of  quitting  life,  and  the  dread  of 
entering  into  a  future  ftatc  to  be  overcome,  there  is  ftill  one  cir- 
cumftance  which  renders  death  formidable  to  many ;  that  is,  the 
fhock  which  nature  is  apprehending  to  fuftain  at  the  feparation  of 
the  foul  from  the  body.  Formidable,  1  admit,  this  may  ju% 
render  it  to  them  whofc  languifhing  fpirits  have  no  inward  fund 
M'hence  they  can  then  draw  relief.  Firmnefs  and  ftrength  of  mind 
is  peculiarly  requilite  for  the  fupport  of  nature  in  its  laft  extremi- 
ty ;  and  that  Urength  is  fupplicd  by  religion.  The  teflimony  of  a 
<Tood  confcience,  and  the  remembrance  of  a  virtuous  life,  a  well- 
grounded  truft  in  the  divine  acceptance,  and  a  firm  hope  of  future 
felicity,  are  principles  firfncient  to  give  compofure  and  fortitude  to 
the  heart,  even  in  the  njidft  of  agony.  In  what  a  high  degree  they 
can  fufpend  or  alleviate  the  feelings  of  pain,  has  been  fully  demon- 
flrnted  by  the  magnanimous  behaviour  of  fuch  as  have  fuffered 
death  in  the  caufe  of  confcience  and  religion.  How  often  has  the 
world  beheld  them  advancing  to  meet  that  fuppofed  king  of  ter- 
rours,  not  with  calmnefs  only,  but  with  joy  ;  raifed  by  divine 
profpc(fls  and  hopes  into  an  entire  neglect  and  contempt  of  bodily 
iuffering? 

It  is  not  without  reafon  that  a  peculiar  afTiftance  from  heaven  is 
looked  for  by  good  nien  at  the  hour  of  death.  As  they  are  taught 
to  believe,  that  in  all  the  immergencies  of  their  life  divine  goodnefs 
has  watched  over  them,  they  have  ground  to  conckide,  that  at 
the  laft  it  will  not  forfake  them  ;  but  that,  at  the  feafon  when  its 
.lid  is  moft  needed,  it  fnall  be  mod  liberally  conmiunicated.  Ac 
cordingly,  a  perfuafion  fo  congruous  to  the  benignity  and  compaf- 
fion  of  ihe  Father  of  mercies,  Iws  been  the  comfort  of  pious  men 
in  every  age.  My  flcfi  and  my  heart  faileth ;  but  God  is  ihe 
flrergth  of  my  heart.  In  ihe  valley  of  the  fkadow  of  death  1  -will  fear 
m  evil,  for  thou  art  with  ?7ie.  When  the  rod  andf/affoi'  this  Shep- 
herd of  Ifrael  are  held  forth  to  his  expiring  fervants,  declining 
nature  needs  no  other  fupport.  The  fecrct  influence  of  his 
reviving  fpirit,  is  fuflicient  for  their  confolaticn  and  firength, 
while  th«  painful  ftrnggle  with  mortality  laPis;  till  at  lengthy  when 

the 


Cn  Death,  35 

the  moment  arrives  that  the  fiber  cord  mufl  he  loofed,  and  the  gold- 
en bowl  be  broken,  their  Almighty  Proteftor  carries  ofF  the  immortal 
fpirit  unhurt  by  the  fall  of  its  earthly  tabernacle,  and  places  it  i:: 
a  better  manfion. — How  refpedlable  and  happy  is  fuch  a  contlufi- 
on  of  human  life,  when  one  in  this  manner  quits  the  ftage  of  time, 
honoured  and  fupported  with  the  prefence  of  his  Creator,  and  en- 
joying, till  the  laft  moment  of  reflection,  the  pleafing  thought,  thac 
he  has  not  lived  in  vain  ?  "  I  have  fought  a  good  fight ;  I  have 
(inifhed  my  courfe ;  I  have  kept  the  faith.  Henceforth  there  is  laid 
for  me  a  crown  of  righteoufnefs,  which  the  Lord  the  righteous 
Judge  fhall  give  me  at  that  day.* 

After  the  view  which  we  have  taken  of  the  advantages  polTefs- 
ed  by  good  men  for  overcoming  the  fears  of  death,  the  firft  fenti- 
ment  which  fiiould  arife  in  our  minds,  is  gratitude  to  heaven  for 
the  hopes  which  we  enjoy  by  means  of  the  Chriftian  religion.  How 
deprefifed  and  calamitous  was  the  human  condition,  as  long  as  the 
terrour  of  death  hung,  like  a  dark  cloud,  over  the  inhabitants  of 
the  earth ;  when,  after  all  the  toils  of  life,  the  melancholy  filence 
of  the  grave  appeared  finally  to  clofc  the  fcene  of  exiftence ;  or, 
if  a  future  ftate  opened  behind  it,  that  ftate  teemed  with  all  thofe 
forms  of  horrour  which  confcious  guilt  could  fugged  to  a  terrified 
imagination  !  The  happieft  change  which  ever  took  place  in  the 
circumftances  of  the  human  race,  is  that  produced  by  the  difco- 
veries  with  which  we  are  blefifed  concerning  the  government  of  the 
liniverie,  the  redemption  of  the  world,  and  the  future  deftination 
of  man.  How  much  dignify  is  thereby  added  to  the  human  cha- 
racter and  (late  I  What  light  and  cheerfulnefs  is  introduced  into  our 
abode !  What  eternal  praife  is  due  to  him  who,  according  to  hh  a^ 
hundant  mercy,  hath  begotten  us  again  into  a  lively  hope,  by  the  rejur^ 
region  of  Jefus  Chrijl  from  the  dead,  to  an  inheritance  incorruptible^ 
undefiled,  and  that  fadeth  not  away,  referved  in  heaven  ? 

The  next  efFecT:  which  the  fubjed  we  have  confidered  fiiould 
produce,  is  an  earneft  defire  to  acquire  thofe  advantages  which  good 
men  enjoy  at  their  death.  The  road  which  leads  to  them  is  plain 
and  obvious,     A  peaceful  and  happy  death  is,  by  the  appointment 

of 
♦  2  Tim*  iv.  7,  8. 


^6  On  Death, 

of  Heaven,  connected  with  a  holy  and  virtuous  life.  Let  us  re- 
nounce criminal  purluits  and  pleafures;  let  us  fear  God  and  keep 
his  commandments  ;  let  us  hold  faith  and  agoodco*ifcience,  if  we  hope 
for  comfort  at  our  laft  hour.  To  prepare  for  this  laft  hour,  eve- 
ry wife  man  Ihould  confider  as  his  moft  important  concern.  Death 
may  julily  be  held  the  teft  of  life.  Let  a  man  have  fupported  his 
charader  with  efteem  and  applaufe,  as  long  as  he  a^led  on  the  bu- 
fy  Itage  of  the  world,  if  at  the  end  he  finks  into  dejedlion  and  ter- 
rour,  all  his  former  honour  is  effaced  ;  he  departs  under  the  im- 
putation of  either  a  guilty  confcience,  or  pufillanimous  mind.  In. 
the  other  parts  of  human  condud,  difguife  and  lubtlety  may  im- 
pofe  on  the  world  ;  but  feldom  can  artifice  be  fupported  in  the  hour 
of  death.  The  maik  moft  commonly  falls  oft,  and  the  genuine 
charader  appears.  When  we  behold  the  fcene  of  life  clofed  with 
proper  compofure  and  dignity,  we  naturally  infer  integrity  and 
fortitude.  We  are  led  to  believe  that  divine  affiftance  fupports 
the  foul,  and  we  preflige  its  tranfltion  into  a  happier  manfion* 
I^lark  the  per f eft  man^  and  behold  the  upright ;  for  the  end  of  that 
man  is  peace,  ^ 

The  laft  inftrudion  which  our  fubjec'l  points  out,  refpeiSls  the 
manner  in  which  a  wife  and  good  man  ought  to  ftand  affedted  to* 
wards  life  and  death.  He  ought  not  to  be  fervilely  attached  to 
tlie  one.  He  has  no  reafon  abjedly  to  dread  the  other.  Life  is 
the  gift  of  God,  which  he  may  juflly  cherilh  and  hold  dear.  Nay, 
he  is  beund  by  all  fair  means  to  guard  and  preferve  it,  that  he  may 
continue  to  be  ufeful  in  that  poft  of  duty  where  Providence  has 
placed  him.  But  there  are  higher  principles  to  which  the  love  of 
life  (hould  remain  fuuordinate.  Wherever  religion,  virtue,  or 
true  honour,  call  him  forth  to  danger,  life  ought  to  be  hazarded 
without  fear.  There  is  a  generous  contempt  of  death  which  fhould 
diftinguilh  thofe  who  live  and  walk  by  the  faith  of  immortality. 
This  '\i  the  fource  of  courage  in  a  Chriftian.  His  behaviour  ought 
to  Ihew  the  elevation  of  his  foul  above  the  prefent  world  ;  ought 
to  difcover  the  liberty  which  be  poffefles  of  following  the  native 
fentiments  of  his  mind,  without  any  of  thofe  reftraints  and  fetters 
which  the  fear  of  death  impofes  on  vicious  men. 

At 
*  Pfalm,  xxxvii.  37, 


On  Death,  37 

At  the  fame  time,  this  rational  contempt  of  death  niuft  carefully 
be  diftinguifhed  from  that  inconfiderate  and  thoughtlefs  indiffer- 
ence, with  which  fome  have  affected  to  treat  it.  This  is  what 
cannot  be  juftified  on  any  principle  of  reafon.  Human  life  is  no 
trifle,  which  men  may  play  away  at  their  pleafure.  Death,  in  every 
view,  is  an  important  event.  It  is  the  moft  folemn  crifis  of  the 
human  exiftence.  A  good  man  has  reafon  to  meet  it  with  a  calm 
and  firm  mind.  But  no  man  is  entitled  to  treat  it  with  oftentatious 
levity.  It  calls  for  manly  ferioufnefs  of  thought.  It  require*  all 
the  recolledion  of  which  we  are  capable  ;  that  with  the  proper  dif- 
pofition  of  dependent  beings,  when  the  dull  is  about  to  return  to 
its  du/it  we  may  deliver  up  the  fpirit  to  Him  who  gave  it^ 


SERMON 


C     38    3 

SERMON       XXIV. 

On  the  Happiness  of  a  Future  State. 

Preached  at  the  Celebration  of  the  Sacrament  of  the  Lord's 
Supper. 

-^  »-» -»-^-^-^- 

Revelations  vii,  9. 

j0er  this  I  beheld y  an  J,  lo  !  a  great  multitude,  vjb'ich  m  man  could 
Tiumher,  of  all  nations,  and  kindreds,  and  people,  and  tongues,  j} 00 d 
before  the  throne,  and  before  the  Lamb,  clothed  with  white  robes, 
and  palms  in  their  hands, 

IN  this  myfterious  book  of  Scripture  many  revolutions  are  fore, 
told,  which  were  to  take  place  in  the  church  of  God.  They 
are  not  indeed  fo  foretold  as  to  afford  clear  and  precife  information 
concerning  the  lime  of  their  coming  to  pafs.  It  would  have  been, 
on  many  accounts,  improper  to  have  lifted  up  too  far  that  awful 
veil  which  covers  futurity.  The  intention  of  the  Spirit  of  God, 
was  not  to  gratify  the  curiofity  of  the  learned,  by  difclofing  to  them 
the  fate  of  monarchies  and  nations,  but  to  fatisfy  the  ferious 
concerning  the  general  plan,  and  final  ilTue,  of  the  divine  govern- 
ment. Amidft  thofe  diftrelTes  which  befel  Chriftians  during  the 
firft  ages,  the  difcoveries  made  in  this  book  were  peculiarly  feafon- 
able;  as  they  (hewed  tliat  there  was  an  Almighty  Guardian,  who 
watched  with  particular  attention  over  the  interefts  of  the  church 
which  he  had  formed  ;  who  forefaw  all  the  commotions  which  were 
to  happen  among  the  kingdoms  of  the  earth,  and  would  fo  over- 
rule them  as  to  promote  in  the  end  the  caufe  of  truth.  This  is  the 
chief  fcope  of  thofe  myllic  vifions  with  which  the  Apoftle  John  was 
favoured;  of  feals  opened  in  heaven  ;  of  trumpets  founding  ;  and 
vials  poured  forth.  The  kingdom  of  darknefs  was  to  maintain  for 
a  while  a  violent  ftruggle  againft  the  kingdom  of  light.     But  at 

the 


On  the  Ilapp'mcfs  of  a  Tuiure  State.  39 

the  conclufion,  a  voice  was  to  be  heard,  as  "  the  voice  of  many  wa- 
"  ters  and  of  mighty  ihnnderings,  faying,  Allelujah,  fcr  the  Lord 
''  God  omnipotent  reigneth.  1  he  kingdoms  of  this  world  are  be- 
*'  come  the  kingdoms  of  our  Loid  and  of  his  Chrill,  and  he  fliall 
*'  reign  for  ever,^^*  Such  is  the  profpecl  with  which  the  divine 
Spirit  at  intervals  enlightens,  and  with  which  he  finally  terminates, 
the  many  dark  and  direful  fcenes  that  are  exhibited  in  this  book. 
In  clofmg  the  canon  of  Scripture,  he,  with  great  propriety,  leaves 
upon  our  miiid  deep  imprefllons  of  the  triumphs  of  righteoufnefs, 
and  of  the  blefiednefs  of  the  redeemed.  "  After  this  I  beheld, 
'^  and,  lo !  si  great  multitude,  which  no  man  could  number,  of 
*^  all  nations,  and  kindreds,  and  people,  and  tongues,  flood  before 
'*  the  throne,  and  before  the  Lauib,  clothed  with  white  robes  and 
"  palms  in  their  hands/' 

Thefe  words  prelent  a  beautiful  defcription  of  the  happinefs  of 
faints  in  heaven  ;  a  fubjed:  on  which  it  is,  at  all  times,  both 
comfortable  and  improving  to  mieditate.  On  this  day,  in  parti- 
cular, when  we  are  to  commemiOrate  the  dying  love  of  our  Sa- 
viour, we  cannot  be  better  employed  than  in  contemplating  what 
his  love  hath  purchafed;  in  order  both  to  awaken  our  gratitude, 
and  to  confirm  our  attachment  to  him.  The  facramentof  the  fup- 
per  is  the  oath  of  our  fidelity.  Let  us  difpofe  our f elves  for  cele- 
brating it,  by  tailing  a  view  of  the  rewards  which  await  the  faith- 
ful. I  lliall,  for  this  end,  in  feveral  obfcrvalions  from  the  words 
of  the  text,  taken  in  connection  with  the  context,  endeavour 
toilluftrate,  in  fome  imperfect  degree,  the  profped  which  is  here 
afforded  us  of  a  ftate  of  future  felicity ;  and  then  fliaJl  make  prac- 
tical improvement  of  the  fubje(f|-,  ^ 

L  What  the  words  of  the  text  moft  obvioufly  fuggefl  is,  that 
heaven  is  to  be  confjdered  as  a  (tate  of  blefied  Ibciety.  J  multitude, 
a  numerous  afiembly,  are  here  reprcfented  as  fharing  together 
the  fame  felicity  and  honour.  Without  fcciety,  it  is  impofliblc 
for  man  to  be  happy.  Place  iiim  in  a  region  where  he  was  fur- 
rounded  with  every  pleafure ;  yet  there,  if  he  found  himfelf  a 
folitary  individual,  he  would  pine  and  languiHi.  They  are  not 
.inerely  our  v.'ants,  and  our  mutual  dependence,  but  our  native  in- 
ftincls  alio  which  impel  us  to  afFcciate  together.     The  intereourfe 

whicli 
*  R£i\  xix,  6. — xi.   15, 


4^  Oh  the  Happinefs 

\vhich  we  here  maintain  with  our  fellows,  is  a  fource  of  our  chief  en- 
joyments. But,  alas !  how  much  are  thefe  allayed  by  a  variety  of  difa. 
greeable  circuniflances  that  enter  into  allour  connexions!  Sometimes 
we  iuffer  from  the  diftrefles  of  thofe  whom  we  love  ;  and  fometimes 
from  their  vices  or  frailties.  W  here  friendlhip  is  cordial,  it  is  ex- 
poled  to  the  wounds  of  painful  fynipathy,  and  to  the  anguiih  of 
violent  feparation.  Where  it  is  fo  cool  as  not  to  occafion  fympathetic 
panis,  it  is  never  produclive  of  much  pleafnre.  The  ordinary  com- 
n^erce  of  the  world  confilts  in  a  circulation  of  frivolous  intercourfe, 
in  which  tlie  heart  has  no  concern.  It  is  generally  infipid,  and 
often  foured  by  th?  fliahteft  difference  in  humour,  or  oppofition 
of-  intercih  We  fly  to  company,  in  order  to  be  relieved  from 
V  earilome  correfpondence  with  ourfelves ;  and  the  vexations  which 
we  meet  with  in  fociety  drive  us  back  again  into  folitude.  Even 
among  the  \'irtuous,  dilTenfions  arife  ;  and  difagreement  in  opinion 
too  often  produces  alienation  of  heart.  We  form  few  conne<5lions 
where  lom.ewhat  does  not  occur  to  difappoint  our  hopes.  The  be- 
ginnings are  often  pleafing.  We  flatter  ourfelves  with  having  found 
thofe  who  v.ill  never  give  ns  anydifguft.  But  weaknefTes  are  too 
loon  difcovered.  Sufpicions  arife;  and  love  waxes  cold»  We 
sre  jealous  of  one  another,  and  accuftomed  to  live  in  difguife.  A 
iiudied  civility  afTumes  the  name  without  the  pleafure  of  friendfliip; 
and  fecret  aniuiofity  and  envy  are  often  concealed  under  the  carefs- 
fs  of  diiTembled  affedion. 

Hence  the  pleafure  of  earthly  fociety,  like  all  our  other  pleafure.% 
is  extremel}^  imperfecl  ;  and  can  give  us  a  very  faint  conception  of 
the  joy  that  mult  arife  from  the  fociety  of  perfecl:  fpirits  in  a  happi- 
er vvorld.  Here,  it  is  with  diinculty  that  we  can  feled  from  the 
corrupted  crowd  a  few  with  whom  we  wifli  to  affociate  in  ftrid: 
union.  1  here,  are  afTembled  all  the  wife,  the  holy,  and  the  juft, 
who  ever  exifted  in  the  univerfe  of  God;  without  any  diflrefs  to 
trouble  their  mutual  blifs,  or  any  fource  of  difagreement  to  inter- 
rupt their  perpetual  harmony.  Artifice  and  concealment  are  un- 
known there.  1  here,  no  competitors  druggie,  no  factions  con- 
tend ;  no  rivals  fupplant  each  other.  The  \oice  of  difcord  never 
rifes,  the  whifper  of  fufpicion  never  circulates,  among  thofe  inno- 
cent and  benevolent  fpirits.  Each,  huppy  in  himfelf,  participates 
in  the  happinefs  of  all  the  reft;  and  by  reciprocal  cominunications 

of 


(if  a  Future  State,  4 1 

of  love  and  friendfliip,  at  once  receives  from  and  adds  to  the  fum 
of  general  felicity.  Renew  the  memory  of  the  molt  aftedlionate 
friends  with  whom  you  were  bleft  in  any  period  of  your  lite.  Di. 
veft  them  of  all  thofe  iniirmities  which  adhere  to  the  human  cha- 
rader.  Recal  the  moft  pleafing  and  tender  moments  which  you  e- 
ver  enjoyed  in  their  fociety  ;  and  the  remembrance  of  thofe  leni'a- 
tions  may  afiift  you  in  conceiving  that  fcliwity  which  is  poflelTtd  by 
the  faints  above.  The  happinefs  of  brethren  dwtU'ing  iogtther  in 
unity,  is,  with  great  juftice  and  beauty,  compared  by  the  Pfahnift 
to  fuch  things  as  are  moft  refrefliing  to  the  heart  of  man  ;  to  the 
fragrancy  of  the  richeit  c^dours,  and  to  the  reviving  influence  of 
foft  aetherial  dews.  "  It  is  like  the  precious  ointment  poured  on 
"  the  head  of  Aaron  ;  and  like  the  dew  of  Hermon,  even  the  dew 
''  that  defcendethon  the  mountains  of  Zion,  where  the  Lord  com- 
**  mandeth  the  blelTing,  even  lite  evermore."* 

Befides  the  felicity  vhich  fprings  from  perfect  love,  there  are 
two  circumftat'ces  which  particularly  enhance  the  bleflednefs  of  that 
multitude  who  Ji and  before  the  throne  ;  thefe  are,  accefs  to  the  moft 
exalted  fociety,  and  renewal  of  the  moft  tender  connexions.  The 
former  is  pointed  out  in  the  Scripture  by  "joining  the  innumera- 
*'  ble  company  of  angels,  and  the  general  aflembly  and  church  of 
'^  the  firft-born  ;  by  litting  down  with  Abraham,  and  Ifaac,  and 
"  Jacob,  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven  ;"t  a  promife  which  opens  the 
fublimeft  profpeds  to  the  hi  mm  mind  It  allows  good  men  to 
entertain  the  hope,  that,  feparated  from  all  the  dregs  of  the  humjii 
mafs,  from  that  mixed  and  polluted  crowd  in  midft  of  which 
they  now  dwell,  they  Ihall  be  permitted  to  mingle  with  prophets, 
patriarchs,  and  apoftles,  with  legiflators  and  heroes,  with  all  thofe 
great  and  illuftrious  fpirits,  who  have  (hone  in  former  ages  as  the 
fervants  of  God,  or  the  benefacflors  of  men;  whofe  deeds  we  arc 
accuftomed  to  celebrate;  whofe  fteps  we  now  follow  at  a  diftance  - 
and  whofe  names  we  pronounce  with  veneration. 

United  to  this  high  aflembly,  the  blefied  at  tlie  fame  time  renew 
thofe  ancient  connexions  witn  virtuous  friends  which  had  been  dif- 
folved  by  death.  The  profpedt  of  this  awakens  in  the  heart  the 
moft  pleafing  and  tender  fentiment  which  perhaps  can  fill  it,  in  this 
mortal  ftate.  For  of  all  the  forrows  w  hich  we  are  here  doomed 
to  endure,  none  is  fo  bitter  as  that  occafioned  b^  the  fatal  ftroke 

F  which 

*  Pfalm  cxxxiii.   i.         f  Heb.  xii.  22;  23.     Matth,  viii.  11. 


42  On  the  Happinefs 

which  feparates  us,  in  nppearance,  for  ever,  from  thofe  to  whom 
either  nature  or  friendf]}ip  had  intimately  joined  our  hearts.  Me- 
mory, from  time  to  time,  renews  the  anguifii ;  opens  the  wound 
which  feemed  once  to  have  been  clofed  ;  and  by  recalHng  joys  that 
are  part  and  gone,  touches  every  fpring  of  painful  fenfibility.  In 
thefe  agonizing  moments,  how  relieving  the  thought,  that  the  re- 
paration is  only  tenjporary,  not  eternal  ;  that  there  is  a  time  to 
come,  of  re-union  with  thofe  with  whom  our  happieft  days  were 
fpent ;  vvhofe  joys  and  forrows  once  were  ours  ;  and  from  whom, 
after  we  (hall  have  landed  on  the  peaceful  Ihore  where  they  dwell, 
no  revolutions  of  nature  fliall  ever  be  able  to  part  us  more  I — Such 
is  the  fociety  of  the  blelfed  above.  Of  fuch  are  the  multitude 
compofed  who  fiand  bejore  the  throne.     Let  us  now  obferve, 

II,  That  this  is  not  only  a  blefledbuta  numerous  fociety.  It  is 
called  a  multitude y  a  great  multitude^  a  great  multitude  which  no  man 
could  number.  Thefe  expreillons  convey  the  moft  enlarged  views 
of  the  kingdom  of  glory.  Difmay  not  yourfelves  with  the  appre- 
henfion  of  heaven  being  a  confined  and  almoft  inaccelTible  region, 
into  which  it  is  barely  poffible  for  a  fmall  handful  to  gain  admif- 
fion,  after  making  their  efcape  from  the  general  wreck  of  the  hu- 
man race.  In  my  Father^s  houfe,  faid  our  Saviour,  there  are  7nany 
mar.fmis.  That  city  of  the  living  God  towards  which  you  profefs 
to  bend  your  courfe,  is  prepared  for  the  reception  of  citizens  in- 
numerable. It  already  abounds  with  inhabitants;  and  more  and 
more  fliall  be  added  to  it,  until  the  end  of  time.  Whatever  diffi- 
culties there  are  in  the  way  which  leads  to  it,  they  have  been  often 
furmounted.  The  path,  though  narrow,  is  neither  impaflable,  nor 
untrodden.  Though  the  gate  (lands  not  fo  wide  as  that  which  o. 
penj  into  hell,  yet  through  the  narrow  gate  multitudes  have  en- 
tered, and  been  crowned. 

It  is  much  to  be  lamented,  that,  among  all  denomination! 
of  Chriftians,  the  uncharitable  fpirit  has  prevailed  of  unwarranta- 
bly circumlgribing  the  terms  of  divine  grace  within  a  narrow  circle 
cf  their  own  drawing.  The  one  half  of  the  Chriftian  world  has 
often  doomed  the  other,  without  mercy,  to  eternal  perdition. 
Without  the  pale  of  that  church  to  which  each  fcdl  belongs,  they 
feem  to  hold  it  impofTible  for  falvation  to  be  attained.  But  is  this 
the  genuine  ipirit  of  ths  Gofpel  \  Can  a  Chriiliau  believe  the  ef- 

fevls 


nf  a  Future  State.  43 

fe(fcs  of  the  fulTerlngs  of  Chnft  to  be  no  greater  than  thefe?  For 
this  did  the  Son  of  God  dcfcend  from  the  highefl:  heavens,  and 
pour  out  his  foul  unto  the  death,  that  only  a  few,  \\ho  adopt  the 
fame  modes  of  expreffion,  and  join  in  the  fame  forms  of  worlhip 
with  us,  might  be  brought  to  the  kingdom  of  heaven?  Is  this  all 
the  deliverance  he  has  wrought  upon  the  earth?  He  was  with  child; 
he  was  in  pain;  and  fli all  he  not  fee  of  the  travail  of  his  foul ^  and 
be  /atisfiedP  Surely,  the  Scripture  has  given  us  full  ground  to  con- 
clude, that  the  trophies  of  our  Redeemer's  grace  fhall  correfpond 
to  the  greatnefs  of  his  power.  ''The  Captain  of  our  falvation 
*'  fliall  bring  many  fons  with  himfelf  to  glory.  The  pleafure  of 
<'  the  Lord  fliall  profper  in  his  hand.  He  fliall  fee  his  feed  ;  He 
*'  fhall  juftify  many.  Men  Ihall  be  blelTed  in  him,  and  all  nati- 
<'  ons  fliall  call  him  bleffed."  For  our  farther  encouragement, 
let  us  obferve, 

III.  That  the  heavenly  fociety  is  reprefented  in  the  text,  as 
gathered  out  of  all  the  varieties  of  the  human  race.  This  is  inti- 
mated by  the  remarkable  expreflions  of  a  multitude  which  no  man 
could  number,  of  all  nations  and  kindreds ,  and  people  and  tongues  ;  as  if 
defigned  on  purpofe  to  corred:  our  narrow  notions  of  the  extent 
and  power  of  divine  orace.  They  whom  diftant  feas  and  regions 
now  divide,  whofe  languages  and  manners  are  at  prefent  ftrange 
to  one  another,  Hiall  then  mingle  in  the  fame  aflembly.  No  fitu- 
ation  is  fo  remote,  and  no  ftation  fo  unfavourable,  as  to  preclude 
accefs  to  the  heavenly  felicity.  A  road  is  opened  by  the  Divine 
Spirit  to  thofe  blifsful  habitations,  from  all  corners  of  the  earth, 
and  from  all  conditions  of  human  life  ;  from  the  peopled  city,  and 
from  the  folitary  defert  ;  from  the  cottages  of  the  poor,  and  from 
the  palaces  of  kings;  from  the  dwellings  of  ignorance  and  fimplicity, 
and  from  the  regions  of  fcience  and  improvement.  They  fall  come  ^ 
fays  our  blelTed  Lord  himfelf,  Jrom  the  eaft  and  from  the  wefy  from 
the  north  and  from  the  fouth,  andfet  down  in  the  kingdom  of  God.* 

Such  difcoveries  ferve  both  to  enlarge  our  conceptions  of  the 
extent  of  divine  goodnefs,  and  to  remove  thofe  fears  which  are 
ready  to  arife  from  particular  fituations  in  life.  Were  you  per- 
mitted to  draw  afide  the  veil,  and  to  view  that  diverfified  aflem- 
bly  of  the  blcffed  who  furround  the  throne,  you  would  behold  a- 

mong 
*  Luke,  xiii    29-. 


44  ^'i  f^^  Fappinefs 

niong  them  nmibers  who  have  overcome  the  fame  difficuhies  which 
eiicouijrer  yuu,  and  which  you  dread  as  infuperable.  You  would 
behdld  there,  the  uninftrudted,  with  whom  an  upright  intention 
fu;-)p]ied  the  pla^e  of  knowledge;  the  feeble,  whom  divine  grace 
had  Itrcngrhened  ;  and  the  mifled,  vihom  it  had  brought  back  into 
the  right  path.  \  ou  would  behold  the  young  uho  had  furmount- 
ed  the  allurements  of  youtiiful  pleafure,  and  the  old  who  had  borne 
the  diftrcfles  of  age  with  undecayed  conftancy  ;  many  whom  want 
could  not  tempt  to  diflioneily,  many  whom  riches  did  not  feduce 
into  pride  or  impiety  ;  many  who,  in  the  molt  difficult  and  enfnar- 
ing  circu  nflances,  in  the  midft  of  camps  and  armies  and  corrupt- 
ed courts,  had  preferved  unfullied  integrity.  In  a  word,  from  a!l 
k'wdreds  and pfopk,  that  is,  from  all  ranks  of  life,  and  all  tribes  af 
men,  even  frotn  among  publicans  and  jinntrs,  you  would  behold 
thnfe  whom  divme  alfiitance  had  conduded  to  luture  glory. — And 
is  not  the  fame  aflilhnce,  in  its  full  extent,  offered  alfo  to  us  ?  En- 
compaiTed,  while  we  run  the  Chrillian  race,  with  this  cloud  of  wit- 
rtjfes  who  have  fiiuihed  their  courfe  with  fuccefs ;  animated, 
unile  ^^  fght  the  good  fght,  with  the  (liouts  of  thofe  who  have 
overcome  and  are  crov.  ned,  Piiall  defpair  enervate  or  dejedl  our 
minds?  From  the  happy  multitude  above,  there  ifiues  a  voice 
"which  ought  to  found  perpeaually  in  the  ear  of  faith.  '^  Be  ye 
^'  faithful  unto  the  death,  and  ye  fliiili  receive  the  crown  of  life  ; 
<*  Be  Ih'ong  in  the  Lord,  and  in  the  power  of  his  might ;  Be  fol- 
*^  lowers  of  us  who  through  faith  and  patience  are  nov/  inheriting 
**  the  promifes.''     Confider, 

IV,  The  defcription  given  in  the  text  of  the  hnppinefs  and 
glory  of  the  heavenly  fociety.  I'hey  were  beheld  by  the  apoftle 
Jianding  before  tke  throne,  and  before  the  Lamby  clothed  with  white 
r'jbesy  and  palms  in  their  hands.  All  that  thefe  palms  and  white 
robes  import,  it  is  not  given  us  now  to  underlfand.  We  know 
thjt  among  all  nations  they  have  been  ufed  as  enfigns  of  joy  and 
vic^on^;  and  are  undoubtedly  employed  here  to  reprefent  that 
diflinguilhed  feliuiy  and  honour  to  which  human  nature  fliall  be 
then  advanced.  But  we  mult  be  endowed  with  the  faculties  of  the 
buned,  in  order  to  comprehend  their  employments  and  pleafures; 
and  inerefore  on  this  part  of  the  fubjf  61  I  fliall  not  attempt  to  en- 
large,    'i'he  filence  of  humble  and  refpedfuj  hope  better  becomes 

us 


of  a  future  State,  45 

VK  than  the  indulgence  of  thofe  excurfions  of  fancy,  which  degrade 
the  fubjedt  they  endeavour  to  exalt. 

One  circuniftance  only  cannot  fail  to  attract  particular  attention ; 
that  the  blelfed  are  here  defcribed  asf/anding  he/ore  the  throne  and 
before  the  Lamb  ;  that  is,  enjoying  the  imn^ediate  prefence  of  the 
great  Creator,  and  of  the  mercifal  Redeemer  of  the  world.  The 
unhappy  diftance  at  which  we  are  now  removed  froru  God,  is  the 
fource  of  all  our  woes.  Thofe  territories  which  we  inhabit,  are 
not  His  abode.  They  are  regions  of  exile.  They  are  the  dwell- 
ings of  a  fallen  race  ;  and  are  condemned  to  be  invefted  with 
clouds  and  darknefs.  Here,  God  llandeth  dfar  off.  In  vain  we 
often  purfue  his  prefence  through  his  works,  his  ways,  and  his  re- 
ligious inftitutions.  He  is  faid  to  be  a  God  that  hldeth  himjtlf.  He 
dwelleth,  as  to  us,  hi  the  fecret  place  oj  thunder.  He  hoideth  back  the 
face  of  his  throne,  and fpreadtth  a  thick  cloud  upon  it.  The  manifeft- 
ation  of  his  prefence  fliall  be  the  fignal  for  the  renovation  of  all 
things.  Wiien  that  ^S^wo/  righteoufnefs  breaks  forth  from  the  cloud 
which  now  conceals  hitn,  forrow  and  fni,  and  every  evil  thing,  fhall 
fly  away  before  the  brightnefs  of  his  face.  For  neither  guilt  nor 
niifery  can  remain  where  God  dwells.  As  the  riling  of  the  fun 
transforms  at  once  the  face  of  nature,  and  converts  the  whole  ex- 
tent of  fpace,  over  which  his  beams  are  fpread,  into  a  region  of 
light ;  fo  (hall  the  divine  prefence,  as  foon  as  it  is  revealed,  dif- 
fufe  univerfal  blifs  over  all  who  behold  it.  It  imports  fulnefs  of 
joy,  and  pleafure  for  evermore.  The  infpired  writer  of-  this  book 
thus  defcribes  its  effects  :  "  There  Ihall  be  no  more  death,  nei- 
**  ther  forrow,  nor  crying,  nor  pain  ;  for  the  former  things  are 
"  pafled  away.  He  that  lat  upon  the  throne  faid,  Behold  1  make 
"  all  things  new.  They  fhall  hunger  no  more,  neither  third  a- 
<*  ny  more.  But  the  Lamb  which  is  in  the  midft  of  the  throne 
^'  fhall  feed  them,  and  fhall  lead  them  unto  living  fountains  of 
"  water.  God  fhall  wipe  away  all  tears  from  their  eyes.''  But, 
defcending  from  this  too  fublime  theme,  let  us 

V.  Turn  our  attention  to  a  circumftance  in  the  ftate  of  future 
happinefs,  more  commenfurate  to  our  prefent  concepiiotis,  which 
is  fuggefced  by  the  commentary  upon  the  words  of  the  text  given 
in  the  fequel  of  the  chapter.  "  And  one  of  the  elders  anfwered, 
"  faying  unto  me,  What  are  thefe  which  are  arrayed  in   white 

*^  robes ; 


46  On  fhe  Happwefs 

*^  robes;  and  whence  came  they?  And  I  faid  unto  him,  Sir,  thoiT 
**  kngweft.  And  he  laid  nnto  me,  Thefe  are  they  which  came 
"^  out  of  great  tribulation.''*  This  explanatory  circumftance  may 
relate  particularly  to  the  cafe  of  thofe  primitive  fufferers  who  en- 
dured levtre  perfccution  in  the  caufe  of  the  gofpel.  But,  in  ge- 
neral, it  prefents  this  natural  and  beautiful  view  of  the  future  fe- 
J icily  ot  good  men,  that  it  is  their  reft  from  the  troubles  and  toils 
of  life.  For,  to  all,  even  to  the  happieft,  human  life  is  tribula- 
tion and  conflict.  No  man  is  thoroughly  at  eale  in  his  condition. 
Purfuits  fucceeding  to  purfuits  keep  us  in  conftant  agitation  ;  while 
fiequent  returns  of  difappoiritment  break  our  plans,  and  opprels 
our  fpirits. — Fatigued  by  fuch  a  variety  of  toils,  mankind  have  e- 
ver  looked  forward  to  reft  as  their  favourite  objecl.  Throughout 
all  their  ranks,  from  the  higheft  to  the  loweft,  they  are  in  perpe- 
tual chace  of  it ;  and  it  perpetually  files  before  them.  It  is  an  ob- 
ject which  here  they  are  doomed  always  to  leek,  and  never  to  en- 
joy. 

The  nature  and  laws  of  our  prefent  ftate  admit  not  the  gratifi- 
cation of  this  favourite  widi.  For,  befides  the  necefljty  of  trouble 
in  order  to  fulfil  the  purpofes  of  difcipline  and  improvement,  our 
very  happinefs,  fuel]  as  it  is  in  this  world,  requires  a  circulation  of 
labours.  Our  enjoyment  conilfts  in  purfuit,  not  in  attainment. 
Attainment  is  with  us,  for  moft  p^irr,  the  grave  of  pleafure.  Had 
we  no  objecl:  to  excite  freih  activity,  and  to  impel  us  to  new 
toils,  human  life  would  quickly  ftagnaie  in  melancholy  indolence. 
At  the  fame  time  the  current  of  all  our  wilhes  tends  to  repole.  I- 
Mjnginary  forms  fioat  inctfi'antly  before  our  view,  of  the  happinefs 
which  is  10  be  enjoyed  in  reft  :  And  from  this  conflict  between  our 
uiflies  on  the  one  h.Tnd,  and  our  acT:i>al  fituation  on  the  other,  a- 
rifi?  much  of  the  difquiet,  and  much  of  the  infelicity,  of  human 
life.  It  is  only  in  heaven  that  the  tranquil  repofe,  which  on  earth 
is  no  more  than  a  pleafing  phantom,  fhall  be  fully  realized.  There, 
remahieth  at  hft  a  rcfr  for  the  people  of  God ;  relt  from  the  difturb- 
ance  of  pafhon,  the  vanity  of  purfuit,  and  the  vexation  of  difap- 
pointment ;  reft  from  all  the  ftns  and  the  forrows  of  this  miferable 
world  ;  reft,  which  fhall  not  be  merely  an  indolent  cefTation  from 
labour,  hut  a  full  and  fatisfying  enjoyment.  Good  menfJjdll  rejl 
irom  their  lahwsj  and  theirivorks  pall  follow  them.     They  have 

come 
Rev,  viii.    13,   14. 


of  a  Future  State,  47 

come  out  of  great  tribulation.  They  have  fulfilled,  with  honour, 
their  appointed  courfe  of  trial.  They  hjve  fat  down  in  the  feat  of 
tlie  Conqueror  ;  and  of  paft  labours  nothing  remains  but  the  pleaf- 
incr  review,  and  the  happy  fruits.     There  is  ftill  to  be  confidered, 

VI.  One  very  material  circumftance,  defcriptive  both  of  the 
character,  and  of  the  happinefs,  of  thofe  who  enjoy  the  heavenly 
blifs.  Not  only  have  they  come  out  of  great  trlbu/atlon,  but,  as 
the  Spirit  of  God  adds  in  explaining  the  text,  they  have  wa/hed 
their  robes  J  and  made  them  luhite  In  the  blood  of  the  Lamb.*  Two 
things  are  here  fuggefted  ;  the  fan«5lity  of  the  bleffed,  and  the  means 
by  which  it  is  attained. 

Firit,  their  fandlity  or  purity  is  emblematically  defcribed,  by 
their  being  clothed  in  robes  which  are  wafhed  and  made  white.  In 
order  to  qualify  human  nature  for  the  enjoyment  of  fuch  happinefs 
as  I  have  endeavoured  to  defcribe,  it  mufl  undergo  a  change  {o 
great,  as  to  receive  in  Scripture  the  appellation  of  a  new  birth;  a 
change  to  which  all  the  inftitutions  of  religion,  and  all  the  ope- 
rations of  grace,  contribute  in  this  life,  but  which  is  not  complet- 
ed till  the  next.  In  this  fanclity,  or  regeneration,  confift  not  on- 
ly the  neceffary  preparations  for  future  felicity,  bur,  which  is  not 
fo  commonly  attended  to,  confifts  an  elTential  part  of  that  felicity 
itfelf.  For  whence  arifes  the  milery  of  this  prefent  world  ?  It  is 
not  owing  to  our  cloudy  atmofphere,  our  changing  feafons,  and 
inclement  Ikies.  It  is  not  owing  to  the  debility  of  our  bodies,  or 
to  the  unequal  diftribution  of  the  goods  of  fortune.  Amidft  all 
difadvantages  of  this  kind,  a  pure,  a  ftedfaft,  and  enlightened 
mind,  poUefTed  of  exalted  virtue,  could  enjoy  itfelf  in  peace,  and 
fmile  at  the  impotent  aflaults  of  fortune  and  the  elements.  It  is 
within  ourfelves  that  mifery  has  fixed  its  feat.  Our  difordered 
liearts,  our  guilty  palTions,  our  violent  prejudices,  and  niifplaced 
defires,  are  the  inflruments  of  the  torment  which  we  endure. 
Thefe  (harpen  the  darts  which  adverfity  would  otherwife  point  in 
vain  againft  us.  Thefe  are  the  vials  of  wrath  which  pour  forth 
plagues  on  the  inhabitants  of  the  earth  ;  and  make  the  dwellings 
of  nations  become  the  abodes  of  woe.  Thence  difcontent  and 
remorfe  gnaw  the  hearts  of  individuals.  Thence  fociety  is  torn 
by  open  violence,  or  undermined  by  fecret  treiichery;  and  man  is 
transformed  into  a  favage  to  man. 

*  Rev,  viii.  14,  Buc 


4  8  Oh  the  Happhiefs 

But  fuppofe  fin  to  be  banHhed  from  the  world  ;  fuppofe  perfcift 
purity  and  charity  to  cielcend  Ircrrs  heaven,  and  to  ai-imate  every 
human  breaft  ;  and  you  would  behold  the  prefent  habitation  ot 
men  changed  into  the  pnradife  of  God.  The  undifturbed  enjoy, 
nient  of  a  holy  niind,  and  of  a  bhfsful  union  with  one  another, 
would  fcarcely  allow  us  lo  feel  thofe  exteruc]  evils  of  which  we 
now  fo  loudly  complain.  All  nature  would  afTume  a  different  ap- 
pearance around  us.  That  golden  age  which  was  fo  long  the  fub- 
jecl  of  tlic  phiiofopher's  dream,  and  of  the  poet's  fong,  would  in 
fadl  take  place.  According  to  the  beautiful  language  of  ancient 
prophecy,  fprmgs  would  then  rife  in  the  ^efert,  and  rivers  he  opened 
in  the  thirjty  land.  The  -wiUtrnefs  and  the  foUtary  place  would  he 
glad.  The  wolf  would  d^jjll  with  the  lamh,  and  the  leopard  lie  down 
with  the  kid.  Judgment  would  dwell  in  the  wildernejs,  and  righte- 
oufnefs  remain  in  the  fruitful  field.  The  defert  would  rejoice,  and 
hloffom  as  the  rofe. — If  fuch,  even  in  this  world,  would  be  the 
effects  of  innocence  and  virtue  completely  reltored,  how  much 
greater  mull  they  be  in  that  weu>  earth,  and  thofe  new  heavens, 
where  redirude  of  nature  ihall  be  combined  with  every  circumftance 
of  external  felicity  >  It  is  the  prefent  imperfect  ftate  of  human 
virtue  that  hinders  us  from  conceiving  fully  the  influence  of  right- 
eoufnefs  upon  happinefs.  The  robes  in  which  the  beft  men  are 
now  clothed,  to  ufe  the  language  of  the  text,  are  fullied  with  fo 
many  (fains,  as  to  convey  no  adequate  idea  of  the  original  beauty 
which  belongs  to  the  garb  of  righteoufnefs.  But  when  thefe  (iains 
fhall  be  wafned  away,  when  thefe  robes  Ihall  be  made  perfectly 
white  and  pure,  a  luftre  will  flow  from  them,  of  which  we  can  as 
yet  form  no  conception. 

But  how  are  the  robes  of  the  blefled  thus  waflied  ?  Whence  \% 
derived  that  fpotlefs  purity  in  which  they  are  arrayed?  The  Spirit 
of  God  hath  anfwered  us,  from  the  blood  of  the  Lamh  ;  leading  our 
thoughts  to  that  higli  difpenfation  of  mercy,  to  which  the  faints 
above  owe  their  eftabliftiment,  firft  in  grace,  and  then  in  glory. 
From  that  bloud  which  \\2i%  pcedjor  the  remiffion  of  fins  ^  flow  both 
the  atonement  of  hun:an  guilt,  and  the  generation  of  human  na- 
ture. Human  nature  had  fallen  too  low  to  be  capable  of  retrieving 
itfelf.  It  could  not  regain  its  primitive  innocence,  and  liill  lefs 
was  capable  of  raifing  ufelf  fo  high  in  the  icale  of  exigence  as  te 
mingle  with  angels.  We  had  neither  fufficicnt  knowledge  to  dif- 
cover,  nor  virtue  to  merit,  nor  ability  to  qualify  ourfelvesfor  en- 
joying 


o/'  a  Future  State,  49 

joying,  celeftial  glory.  Heaven  muft  have  been  either  covered 
from  our  view  by  perpetual  darknefs,  or  only  beheld  from  afar  as 
an  inaccefTible  region,  if  Chrilt  had  not  interpol'ed  to  optnfoT  us  a 
neiu  and  living  way  within  the  veil.  The  obligations  which  uis 
generous  undertaking,  has  conferred  upon  the  human  race,  will  teud 
highly  to  increafe  the  felicity  of  the  blelTed.  The  Icnfe  of  being 
diftinguiflied  by  fo  illuitrious  a  benefador,  and  the  correlpondiog 
returns  of  gratitude  and  love  to  him,  form  fome  ofthemoft  pleaf- 
ingof  thofe  emotions  which  itiall  continue  to  delight  them  through 
all  eternity. 

From  thofe  views  of  a  ftate  of  future  happiuefs  which  the 
text  has  fuggefted,  various  inftrudions  relating  to  life  and  pradlice 
naturally  arife.  We  are  taught  to  redlify  our  notions  of  feliciiy  j 
to  look  for  it,  not  in  what  is  external,  but  in  what  relates  to  the 
mind  and  heart  ;  in  good  difpofitions  and  a  purified  foul ;  in  uni- 
ty and  friendiliip  with  one  another,  and  in  the  divine  prefence  and 
favour.  If  fuch  things  form  the  principal  articles  of  future  blifs, 
they  cannot  but  be  elTential  to  our  happinefs  in  the  more  early  pe- 
riods of  exiftence  ;  and  he  who  feeks  his  chief  enjoyment  from  an 
oppofite  quarter,  errs  widely  from  the  path  which  conduds  to  fe- 
licity. 

We  are  farther  taught  whence  to  derive  conftancy  and  perfe^ 
verance,  amidft  the  prefent  difcouragements  of  a  virtuous  life.  In 
this  world,  we  often  behold  good  men  deprefTed,  and  the  wicked 
profpering  around  us.  Our  beft  deeds  meet  with  unjuft  returns 
from  an  ungrateful  world.  Sincerity  is  over-reached  by  craft, 
and  innocence  falls  a  v!(^im  to  power.  But  let  us  not  on  fuch  oc- 
eafions  fay  within  ourfcives,  that  in  vain  we  have  ckanfed our  hearts^ 
andviafloed  our  hands  in  innocency.  Let  us  reft  on  the  aflfurance, 
that  thefe  diforders  extend  not  far  in  the  kingdom  of  God.  l^hey 
affed  only  the  firft  flage  of  exiftence.  They  relate  to  difcipline 
and  trial,  which  will  icon  be  finilhed.  In  that  permanent  ftate^ 
which  is  about  to  open,  anew  and  better  order  of  things  fhall  arife. 
When  deje,5led  with  the  evils  of  life,  let  as  look  upward  to  that 
happy  multitude  who  have  come  out  of  great  tribulation,  and  nonv/fand 
before  the  throne.  Until  the  day  arrrive  which  fliall  join  us  to  that 
bleifed  aiTembly,  let  as  fliew  ourrelves  worthy  of  the  hope  that  is 
before  us,  by  fupporting,  with  a  conftjnt  mind,  the  trials  of  our 
fidelity.  Be  patient ;  ftablij}-)  your  hearts^  Th  coming  cf  the  Lord 
*!ravjeih  nigh.  G  Froru 


,£6  Ca  the  HcJpptnefsy  6c^ 

From  the  profpeifls  which  the  text  has  afforded,  We  may  like* 
Tvife  learn  what  the  fpirit  is  which  fliould  regulate  our  life.  Sanc- 
tity of  condudl,  dignity  of  charader,  elevation  of  affections,  be- 
come thofe  who  expect  to  mingle  with  angels,  and  fpirits  of  jufi 
men  mads  fcrfcfl.  I  mean  not  that  fuch  profpeiSts  fhould  carry 
away  our  wliole  attention  from  the  prefent  world,  where  undoubt- 
edly lies  the  chief  fcene  of  human  adion,  and  human  duty.  But 
while  we  ad:  as  inhabitants  of  the  earth,  we  ought  at  the  fame 
time  fo  to  remember  our  connexion  with  a  better  world,  as  not 
to  debafe  ourfelves  with  what  is  mean,  not  to  defile  ourfelves  with 
w  hat  is  impure,  not  to  entangle  ourfelves  among  what  is  enfnaring, 
in  the  prefent  ftate.  Let  neither  its  advantages  elate,  nor  its  dif- 
appointments  deject  us;  but  with  an  equal  fpirit,  with  a  mind  full 
of  immortality^  let  us  pafs  through  all  the  changes  of  this  mortal 
life. 

Finally,  let  the  dilcoveries  of  future  happinefs  infpire  us  with 
fuitable  gratitude  to  God  and  Chrift  ;  to  the  eternal  Father,  who 
originally  decreed  fuch  rewards  for  the  righteous  ;  and  to  the  Son, 
who  ads  in  the  high  chardi^rr  of  the  Difpenfer  of  the  divine  mer* 
cies,  and  the  great  Reftorer  of  the  fallen  race  of  men.     Particu- 
larlarly,  when  approaching  to  God  in  folemn  ads  of  devotion,  fuch 
as  we  are  at  this  day  to  perform,  let  gratitude  be  alive  and  ardent  in 
our  heart.     The  commemoration  of  our  Saviour's  death  is  in  a  high 
degree  fuited  to  awaken  every  emotion  of  tendernefs  and  love. 
It  brings  before  us,  under  one  view,  all  the  obligations  which  we 
lie  under  to  this  great  benefador  of  mankind.     When  juft  ready 
to  fuffer  for  our  fake,  he  inftituied  this  holy  facrament,  and  faid, 
Do  this  in  remembrance  of  me, — Whom,  O  bleffed  Jefus!  fhall  we 
ever  remember,  if  we  are  capable  of  forgetting  Thee?  Thee,  to 
whom   we  owe  the  forgivenefs  of  fin,  and  the  reQcration  of  di- 
vine favour ;  our  vidory  over  death,  and  eur  hope  of  life  eternal ! 
Thou  haft  enlarged  our  views  beyond  thefe  territories  of  diforders 
and  dirknefs.     Thou  haft  difcovered  to  us  the  city  of  the  living  God» 
Thou  fetteft  open  the  gates  of  that  new  Jerufalem;  and  leadeft  us 
into  the  path  of  life.     Thou  from  age  to  age  gathereft  out  of  every 
fiatlon,  and  kindred,  and  people,  that  multitude  which  f land  before 
the  throne.     Thou  bringeit  ihem  out  of  great  tribulation.     Thine 
are  the  while  robes  with  which  they  are  inverted  ;  thine,  the  palms 
which  they  bear;  and  by  Thee  they  are  placed  under  the  light  of 
the  divine  countenance  for  ever,  S  E  R- 


C    5«    1 

SERMON       XXV. 
On    candour. 

I  Corinth,  xiii.  5, 

Chanty — ihinketh  no  evil. 

RELIGION  and  Government  are  the  two  great  foundations- 
of  order  and  comfort  among  mankind.  Government  re- 
ftrains  the  outrages  and  crimes  which  would  be  fubverfive  of  fo- 
ciety,  fecures  the  property  and  defends  the  lives  of  its  fubjefts. 
But  the  defedt  of  government  is,  that  human  laws  can  extend  no 
farther  than  to  the  adions  of  men.  Though  they  protedt  us  from 
external  violence,  they  leave  us  open  on  different  fides  to  be 
wounded.  By  the  vices  which  prevail  in  fociety,  our  tranquillity 
may  be  difturbed,  and  our  lives  in  various  ways  embittered,  while 
government  can  give  us  no  redrefs.  Religion  fupplies  the  infuiE- 
ciency  of  law,  by  ftriking  at  the  root  of  thofe  diforders  which  oc- 
cafion  fo  much  mifery  in  the  world.  Its  profeffed  fcope  is  to  re- 
gulate, not  adions  alone,  but  the  temper  and  inclinations.  By 
this  means  it  afcends  to  the  fources  of  condu6l;  and  very  ineffec- 
tual would  the  wifefl  fyftem  of  legiflation  prove  for  the  happinefs 
of  mankind,  if  it  did  not  derive  aid  from  religion,  in  foftening 
the  difpofitions  of  men,  and  checking  many  of  thofe  evil  paffions  to 
which  the  influence  of  law  cannot  poffibly  reach. 

We  are  led  to  this  reflection  by  the  defcription  given  in  the  con- 
text of  charity,  that  great  principle  in  the  Chriftian  fyflem.  The 
Apoftle  places  it  in  a  variety  of  lights,  and  under  each  of  them 
explains  its  operation  by  its  internal  effects ;  not  by  the  adlions  to 
which  it  gives  rife,  but  by  the  difpofitions  which  it  produces  in  the 
heart.  He  juftly  fuppofes,  that  if  the  temper  be  duly  regulated, 
propriety  of  adion  will  follow,  and  good  order  take  place  in  ex- 
ternal behaviour.  Of  thofe  charadlers  of  charity  I  have  chofeii 
one  for  the  fubje<fi;  of  this  difcourfe,  which  leads  to  the  confidera- 
tion  of  a  virtue  highly  important  to  us,  both  as  Chriftians,  and  as 

members 


^2  On  Canckur. 

niptnbers  of  fociety.  I  fliall  endeavour,  firll,  to  explain  the  tem^ 
per  here  pointed  out,  Iry  Ihewing  what  this  defcription  of  charity 
imports,  tliat  //  thinketh  m  evil;  and  then  to  recommend  fuch  a  dif- 
polition,  and  to  (hfplay  the  bad  eftetts  of  an  oppofite  turn  of  mind. 

I.  Let  us  confider  what  this  defcription  of  charity  imports. 
You  will  eafily  perceive  that  the  exprefTion  in  the  text  is  not  to  be 
janderftood  in  a  fenle  iihogether  unlimited  ;  as  if  there  were  no  oc- 
cafion  on  which  we  are  to  rhink  unfavoursbly  of  others.  To 
view  all  the  anions  of  men  with  the  fame  degree  of  complacency, 
would  be  contrary  both  to  common  underftanding,  and  to  many 
expjefs  precepts  of  religion.  In  a  world  where  fomuch  depravity 
abounds,  were  we  to  think  and  fpeak  equally  well  of  all,  we  mull 
either  be  infenfible  of  the  diiVndion  between  rightand  wrong,  or  be 
iidiifcrenttothatdiiiinclion  when  we  perceived  it.  Religion  renders 
it  our  duty  to  abhor  that  which  is  ei>ii ;  and,  on  many  occallons,  to 
cxprefs  our  indignation  openly  againft  it.  But  the  Apoflle,  with 
great  propriety,  defcribes  the  temper  which  he  is  recommending 
in  fuch  (trong  and  general  terms,  as  might  guard  us  againft  that  ex- 
treme to  which  we  are  naturally  moli  prone,  of  raHi  and  unjult 
fufpicion.  The  virtue  which  he  means  to  inculcate  is  that  which 
is  known  by  the  name  of  Candoiir;  a  virtue,  which,  as  foon  as 
it  is  mentioned,  every  one  will  acknowledge  to  be  elTential  to  the 
character  of  a  worthy  man  ;  a  virtue  which  we  feldom  fail  of  af- 
cribinfr  to  any  perfon  whom  we  feek  to  recommend  to  the  eacem 
of  others  ;  but  which,  I  am  afraid,  when  we  examine  our  own 
conduct  in  a  religious  view,  is  feldom  the  fubjeci:  of  inquiry. 

It  isneceiTary  to  obferve,  that  true  Candour  is  altogether  different 
from  that  guarded,  inofFenfive  language,  and  that  ftudied  open- 
nefs  of  behaviour,  which  we  fo  frequently  meet  with  among  men 
of  the  world.  Smiling,  very  often,  is  the  afpe(5l,  and  imooth  are 
the  words,  of  thofe  who  inwardly  are  the  moll  ready  to  think  evil 
of  others.  That  Candour  which  is  a  Chriltian  virtue,  confifls  not 
in  fairnefs  of  fpeech,  but  in  fairnefs  of  heart.  It  may  want  the 
blandifhment  of  external  conrtefy,  but  fupplies  its  place  with  hu- 
mane and  generous  liberality  of  fentiment.  Its  manners  are  un- 
affected, and  i;s  profefiioris  Ci)rdial.  Exempt,  on  one  hand,  from 
the  dark  jealoufy  of  a  fufpicious  mind;  it  is  no  lels  removed,  on 
the  ether;  from  ihat  eafy  credulity  which  is  imnofcd  on  by  every 

fpecious 


On  Candour.  i^-^ 

fpecious  pretence.  It  is  perfedly  confident  with  extenfive  knovv- 
lecl^re  of  the  world,  and  with  due  attention  to  our  own  fafe- 
ty.  In  that  various  intercourfe  which  we  are  obliged  to  carry  on 
with  perfons  of  every  different  charader,  fufpicion,  to  a  certain 
degree,  is  a  necefTary  guard.  It  is  only  when  it  exceeds  the 
bounds  of  prudent  caution,  that  it  degenerates  into  vice.  There 
is  a  proper  mean  between  undiftinguifhing  credulity,  and  univer- 
fal  jealoufy,  which  a  found  underlhnding  difcerns,  and  which  the 
man  of  Candour  ftudies  to  preferve. 

He  makes  allowance  for  the  mixture  of  evil  with  good,  which 
is  to  be  found  in  every  human  charader.  He  expeds  none  to  be 
faultlefs ;  and  he  is  unwilling  to  believe  that  there  is  any  without 
fome  commendable  quality.  In  the  midft  of  many  defects,  he  can 
difcover  a  virtue.  Under  the  influence  of  perfonal  refentment, 
he  can  be  juft  to  the  merit  of  an  enemy.  He  never  lends  an  o- 
pen  ear  to  thofe  defamatory  reports  and  dark  fuggeftions,  which, 
among  the  tribes  of  the  cenforious,  circulate  with  fo  much  rapi- 
dity, and  meet  with  fuch  ready  acceptance.  He  is  not  hafty  to 
judge,  and  he  requires  full  evidence  before  he  will  condemn.  As 
long  as  an  aflion  can  be  afcribed  to  different  motives,  he  holds  it 
as  no  mark  of  fagacity  to  impute  it  always  to  the  word.  Where 
there  is  jufl:  ground  for  doubt,  he  keeps  his  judgment  undecid- 
ed ;  and,  during  the  period  of  fufpenfe,  Jeans  to  the  mod  cha- 
ritable conftrudion  which  an  action  can  bear.  When  he  muft 
condemn,  he  condemns  with  regret ;  and  without  thofe  aggrava- 
tions which  the  feyerity  of  others  adds  to  the  crime.  He  liftens 
calmly  to  the  apology  of  the  offender,  and  readily  admits  every 
extenuating  circumftance  which  equity  can  fugged.  How  much 
focver  he  may  blame  the  principles  of  any  fed:  or  party,  he  never 
confounds,  under  one  general  cenfure,  all  who  belong  to  that 
party  or  fed.  He  charges  them  not  with  fuch  confequences  of 
their  tenets,  as  they  refufe  and  difavow.  From  one  wrong  opi- 
nion, he  does  not  infer  the  fubverfion  of  all  found  principles  ;  nor, 
from  one  bad  adion,  conclude  that  all  regard  to  confcience  is  o- 
verthrown.  When  he  beholds  the  mote  in  his  brotber''s  eye^  he  re- 
members the  beam  in  his  oujn.  He  commiferates  human  frailty  ; 
and  judges  of  others  according  to  the  principles  by  which  he  would 
think  it  reafonable  that  they  faould  judge  of  him.  In  a  word, 
he  views  men  and  adions  in  the  clear  funfhine  of  charity  and 

good -nature  ; 


^4  ^w  Candour^ 

good- nature  ;  and  not  in  that  dark  and  Tullen  fliade  which  jealoufy 
and  pdrty-fpirit  throw  over  all  characi:ers. —  Such  being  in  general 
the  fpirit  of  that  charily  which  thlnkcth  no  evil,  I  proceed, 

II.  To  recommend  by  various  arguments,  this  important  branch 
of  Chriftian  virtue. 

Let  us  begin  with  obfcrving  what  a  neceffary  requifite  it  is  to 
the  proper  difcharge  of  all  the  focial  duties.  1  need  not  fpend 
time  in  fliowing  that  thefe  hold  a  very  high  rank  in  the  Chriftiaii 
fyilein.  The  encomium  which  the  Apoftle  in  this  chapter  be- 
ilovvs  upon  charity,  is  alone  fufficient  to  prove  it.  He  places  thii 
grace  at  the  head  of  all  the  gifts  and  endowments  which  can  be 
polTefled  by  man  ;  and  alTures  us,  that  though  we  had  all  faith  fo  that 
vjs  could  renKTje  ?nountalns,  yet  if  we  be  dellitute  of  charity,  it  will 
profit  us  nothing.  Accordingly,  lr/vc,gcntlenefs ,  meeknefs^  and  long- 
Ji^ffcnngj  are  enumerated  as  difiinguifliing  fruits  of  the  fpirit  of 
Chrift.*  But  it  is  impoiTible  for  fuch  virtues  as  thefe  to  find  place 
in  a  breaft,  where  the  propenfity  to  think  evil  of  others  is  predo- 
minant. Charitable  and  candid  thoughts  of  men  are  the  neceflary 
introduction  to  all  good-will  and  kindnefs.  They  torm,  if  we 
may  fpeak  fo,  the  only  climate  in  which  love  can  grow  up  and 
flourifh.  A  fufpicious  temper  checks  in  the  bud  every  kind  affec- 
tion. It  hardens  the  heart,  and  ellranges  man  from  man.  What 
friendfhip  cr  gratitude  can  you  expect  from  him,  who  views  all 
your  condu6l  with  diftruftful  eyes,  and  aicribes  every  benefit  you 
confer  to  artifice  and  ftratagem?  The  utmofl  v/hich  you  can  hope 
from  one  of  this  char:i6ler,  is  juftice  in  his  dealings ;  nor  even 
that  can  you  hz  allured  of;  as  the  fufpicions  to  which  he  is  a  prey 
will  afford  him  frequent  pretexts  for  departing  from  truth,  and 
for  defending  himfelf  with  the  fame  arms  which  he  conceives  to  be 
employed  againft  hifu.  Unhappy  will  they  be  who  are  joined 
with  him  by  any  clofe  connexion;  expofed  to  every  malignant 
fiifpicion  which  arifes  in  his  own  mind,  and  to  every  unjuft  fug- 
geflion  which  the  malice  of  others  may  infmuate  againft  them. 
That  ftore  of  poifon  which  is  colleded  within  him,  frequently 
throws  out  its  venom  on  all  who  are  within  its  reach.  As  a  com- 
panion, he  will  be  fevere  and  fatirical ;  as  a  friend,  captious  and 
dangerous ;  in  his  domeftic  fphere,  harlh,  jealous,  and  irafcible  ; 
in  his  civil  capacity,  feditioqs  and  turbulent,  prone  to  impute  the 

»  ^  /  coi¥lu£i 

*  Cat.  V.  22,  23. 


^n  Candour.  ^5 

coni^ucft  of  his  fuperiours  to  improper  iLotives,  and  upon  Icofc  in- 
formation to  condemn  their  conduct. 

The  contrary  of  all  this  may  be  expe<fled  from  a  candid  tern- 
per.  Whatever  is  amiable  in  manners,  or  ufeful  in  fociety,  na- 
turally and  eafiiy  ingrafts  itfelf  upon  it.  Gcntlenefs,  humanity, 
and  compalTion,  flow  from  it  as  their  native  fpring.  Open  and 
cheerful  in  itfelf,  it  difFufes  checrfnlnefs  and  good-humour  over 
all  who  are  under  its  influence.  It  is  the  chief  ground  of  mutual 
confidence  and  union  among  men.  It  prevents  thofe  animofities 
from  arifing  which  are  the  offspring  of  groundlefs  prejudice ;  or> 
by  its  benign  interpofition,  allays  them  when  arifen.  In  the  roa- 
giftrate,  it  tempers  juftice  with  lenity.  Among  fubje<fls  it  promotes 
good  order  and  fubmiffjon.  It  connec^-s  humanity  with  piety.  For 
he  who  is  not  given  to  think  evil  of  his  fellow-creatures,  will  not 
be  ready  to  cenfure  the  difpenfations  of  his  Creator,  Whereas 
the  fame  turn  of  mind  which  renders  one  jealous  and  unjuft  to- 
wards men,  will  incline  him  to  be  querulous  and  impious  towards 
God. 

In  the  fecond  place,  as  a  fufpiclous,  uncharitable  fpirit  is  in- 
confillent  with  all  fecial  virtue  and  happinefs,  fo,  in  itfelf,  it  is 
unreafonable  and  unjufh  In  order  to  form  found  opinions  concern- 
ing characters  and  actions,  two  things  are  efpecially  requifite,  in- 
formation and  impartiality.  But  fuch  as  are  moft  forward  to 
decide  unfavourably,  are  commonly  deflitute  of  both.  Inftead 
of  poflefflng,  or  even  requiring,  full  information,  the  grounds  on 
which  they  proceed  are  frequently  the  moft  flight  and  frivolous* 
A  tale,  perhaps,  which  the  idle  have  invented,  the  inquifitive 
have  liftened  to,  and  the  credulous  have  propogated,  or  a  real  in- 
cident which  rumour,  in  carrying  it  along,  has  exaggerated  and 
Jifguifed,  fupplies  them  with  materials  of  confident  aflertion,  and 
decifive  judgment.  From  an  adion  they  prefenlly  look  into  th» 
heart,  and  infer  the  motive.  This  fuppcfed  motive  they  conclude 
to  be  the  ruling  principle  ;  and  pronounce  at  once  concerning  the 
whole  charadter. 

Nothing  can  be  more  contrary  both  to  equity  and  to  found  rea-* 
fon,  than  fuch  precipitate  judgments.  Ary  man  who  attends  to  what 
paifes  within  himfelf,may  eafiiy  difcern  what  a  complicated  fyftem 
ihe  hijmaij  char?ftsr  is,  and  what  a  variety  of  circumftances  muft 

be 


c<)  Dn  Candoufi 

be  taken  into  the  account,  in  order  to  cftimate  it  truly.  No  fingk 
inftance  of  conduc'l  whatever,  is  fufficient  to  determine  it.  A» 
from  one  worthy  action,  it  were  credulity,  not  charity,  to  con- 
clude a  perfon  to  be  free  from  all  vice  ;  fo  from  one  which  iscen- 
furable,  it  is  perfed:ly  unjuft  to  infer  that  the  author  of  it  is  with- 
out confcience  and  without  merit.  Did  you  know  all  the  attend- 
ing circun)ftanccs,  it  might  appear  in  an  excufable  light ;  nay, 
perhaps,  under  a  commendable  form.  The  motives  of  the  ador 
njay  have  been  entirely  different  from  thofe  which  you  afcribe  to 
him  ;  and  where  you  fuppofe  him  impelled  by  bad  defign,  he  may 
have  been  prompted  by  confcience  and  miftaken  principle.  Ad- 
mitting the  action  to  have  been  in  every  view  criminal,  he  may 
have  been  hurried  into  it  through  inadvertency  and  furprife.  He 
may  have  fineerely  repented ;  and  the  virtuous  principle  may 
have  now  regained  its  full  vigour.  Perhaps  this  was  the  corner 
of  frailty ;  the  quarter  on  which  he  lay  open  to  the  incurfions  of 
temptation;  while  the  other  avenues  of  his  heart  were  firmly 
guarded  by  confcience. 

No  error  is  more  palpable  than  to  look  for  uniformity  from  hu- 
man nature ;  though  it  is  commonly  on  the  fuppofition  of  it  that 
our  general  conclufions  concerning  character  are  formed.  Man- 
kind are  confiltent  neither  in  good,  nor  in  evil.  In  the  prefent 
Hate  of  frailty,  all  is  mixed  and  blended.  The  ftrongefl  contra- 
rieties of  piety  and  hypocrify,  of  generofity  and  avarice,  of  truth 
and  duplicity,  often  meet  in  one  character.  The  pureft  human 
virtue  is  coniiitent  with  fome  vice  ;  and  in  the  midft  of  much  vice  and 
diforder,  amiable,  nay  refpe6table,  qualities  may  be  found.  There 
are  few  cafes  in  vvhich  we  have  ground  to  conclude  that  all  good- 
nefs  is  loll.  At  the  bottom  of  the  charadter  there  may  lie  fome 
fparksof  piety  and  virtue, fuppreUed,  but  not  extinguiflied  ;  which, 
kept  alive  by  the  breath  of  heaven,  and  gathering  ftrength  in  fe- 
crei  from  reficction,  may,  on  the  firft  favourable  opening  which 
is  afforded  them,  be  ready  to  break  forth  with  fplendour  and  force. 
— Placed,  then,  in  a  fiiuation  of  fo  much  uncertainty  and  dark- 
refs,  where  our  knowledge  of  the  hearts  and  characters  of  men 
is  lb  limited,  and  our  judgments  concerning  them  are  ib  apt  to  err, 
what  a  continual  call  do  we  receive  either  to  fufpend  our  judgment, 
or  to  give  it  on  the  favourable  fide?  efpecially  when  we  confider 
that,  as  through  imperfect  information  we  are  unqualified  for  de- 
ciding 


On  CanJoUi'.  ^y 

tiding  foundly,  fo  through  want  of  impartiality  wc  are  often  tempt* 
cd  to  decide  wrong.  How  much  this  enforces  the  argument  for 
candour,  will  appear  by  confidering, 

In  the  third  place,  what  the  fources  are  of  thofe  fevere  and  un- 
charitable opinions  which  we  are  fo  ready  to  form.  Were  the 
mind  altogether  free  from  prepofleflion  and  bias,  it  might  avail  it* 
felf  to  more  advantage  of  the  fcanty  knowledge  which  it  pofiefTes. 
But  this  is  fo  far  from  being  the  cafe,  that  on  every  fide  we  are 
encumbered  with  prejudice*,  and  warped  by  palTions,  which  exert 
their  influence  in  nothing  more  than  in  leading  us  to  think  evil 
of  others.  At  all  times  we  are  juftly  faid  io  fee  through  a  glqfs, 
darkly  I  but  paflion  and  prejudice,  looking  through  a  glafs  which 
diftorts  the  form  of  the  obje6ls,  make  us  alfo  fee  falfely. 

It  is  one  of  the  misfortunes  of  our  prefent  fituation,  that  fome 
of  the  good  difpofitions  of  human  nature  are  apt  to  betray  us  in- 
to frailties  and  vices.  Thus  it  often  happens,  that  the  laudable 
attachment  which  we  contrad:  to  the  country,  or  the  church,  to 
which  we  belong,  or  to  fome  political  denomination  under  which 
we  clafs  ourfelvcs,  both  confines  our  afFedions  within  too  narrow 
a  fphere,  and  gives  rife  to  violent  prejudices  againft  fuch  as  come 
under  an  oppofite  defcription.  Not  contented  with  being  in  the 
right  ourfelves,  we  muft  find  all  others  in  the  wrong,  Weclainj 
an  exclufive  poflefTion  of  goodnefs  and  wifdcm  •  and  from  ap- 
proving warmly  of  thofe  who  join  us,  we  proceed  to  condemn, 
with  much  acrimony,  not  only  the  principles,  but  the  characters 
of  thofe  from  whom  we  differ.  Hence  perfons  of  well-difpofed 
minds  are  too  often,  through  the  flrength  of  partial  good  affec- 
tion, involved  in  the  crime  of  uncharitable  judgment.  They  rafli- 
\y  extend  to  every  individual  the  fevere  opinion  which  they  have 

unwarrantably  conceived  of  a  whole  body. This  man  is  of  a 

party  wbofe  principles  we  reckon  flavifh ;  and  therefore  his  whole 
fentirqents  are  corrupted.  That  man  belongs  to  a  religious  fedt 
which  we  are  accuftomed  to  deem  bigoted  ;  and  therefore  he  is- 
incapable  of  any  generous  or  liberal  thought.  Another  is  con- 
neded  with  a  fedl  which  we  have  been  taught  to  account  relaxed ; 
and  therefore  he  can  have  no  fandtity, — Are  thefe  the  judgments 
of  candour  and  charity  ?  Is  true  piety  or  virtue  fo  very  limited  in 
Its  nature,  as  to  be  confined  to  fuch  alone  as  fee  every  thing  with 

H  ©ui: 


/)3  On  Canchut\ 

our  eyes,  and  follow  exactly  the  train  of  our  ideas?  Was  there  c- 
ver  any  great  community  fo  corrupt  as  not  to  include  within  it  in- 
dividuals of  real  worth  ? 

Befides  prepofllflions  of  this  nature,  which  fcmetimes  miflead  the 
honeft  mind,  there  are  other,  and  n.uch  mere  culpable  caufes  of 
uncharitable  judgment.  Pride  is  hurt  and  wounded  by  every  ex- 
cellence in  which  it  can  claim  no  fliare  ;  and  from  eagernels  to  dif- 
cover  a  blemifli,  reft  upon  the  ftightell  appearance  ot  one,  as  a  fa- 
tisfying  proof.  When  rivalry  and  competition  concur  with  pride, 
cur  dfcfjre  to  efpy  defects  increafes,  and,  by  confequence,  the  grounds 
of  cenfure  n^ultiply.  Where  no  oppofition  of  interefts  takes  place, 
envy  has  too  much  influence  in  warping  the  judgment  of  many. 
Even  when  none  of  thefe  caufes  operate,  the  inward  confcioufnefs 
of  depravity  is  fufiicient  to  fill  the  nnnd  with  evil  thoughts  of  o- 
thers.  Whence  Ihculd  a  man  fo  readily  draw  his  opinion  of  men 
as  from  tliat  charadcr  with  which  he  is  beft  acquainted,  becaufe 
it  is  his  own  ?  A  perfon  of  low  and  bafe  mind  naturally  imputes 
to  others  the  fentiments  which  he  finds  congenial  to  himfelf ;  and 
is  incredulous  of  every  excellency  which  to  him  is  totally  unknown. 
He  enjoys,  befides,  confolation  in  the  thought  that  others  are  no 
better  than  himfelf;  that  his  weakneUes  and  crimes  are  ihofe  of 
all  men  ;  and  that  fuch  as  appear  moft  diftinguifned  for  virtue  pof- 
fefs  no  real  fuperiority,  except  greater  dexterity  in  concealing  their 
vices.  Soothing  themfelves  with  this  dodrine  in  fecret,  too  many 
fofter  and  ftrengthen  the  bad  opinion  which  they  entertain  of  all 
mankind.  Rarely,  if  ever,  have  you  ground  to  think  well  of  that 
man's  heart  who  is  on  every  occafion  given  to  think  the  worft  of 
others.     Let  us  oblerve, 

In  the  fourth  place,  that  fuitable  to  the  fources  whence  a  jea- 
lous and  fufpicious  temper  proceeds,  are  the  efi^ecls  which  it  pro- 
duces in  the  world^  the  crimes  and  mifchiefs  with  which  it  fills  foci- 
ety.  It  pcflefies  this  unhappy  diftinction  beyond  the  other  failings 
of  the  human  heart,  that  while  if  impels  men  to  violent  deeds,  it 
justifies  to  their  own  apprehenfion  the  excefies  which  they  commit. 
Amidft  the  uproar  of  other  bad  paffions,  confcience  a61s  as  a  re- 
ftraining  power.  As  foon  as  the  tumult  fubfides,  remorfe  exerts 
its  influence,  and  renders  tjie  finner  fenfible  of  the  evil  which  he 
has  done.     But  the  uncharitable  man  is  unfortunately  fet  loofe 

from 


On  Candow\  d-^ 

from  any  fuch  check  or  controul.  Through  the  infatuation  of  pre- 
judice, his  judgment  is  perverted  ;  confcience  is  mifled  ;  the  light 
within  him  is  turned  into  ^arknefs'.  Viewing  the  objeds  of  his  dif- 
pleafure  as  evil  men,  he  thinks  himfelf  entitled  to  give  that  dif- 
pkaftire  full  vent;  and  in  committing  the  mod  inhuman  adlions, 
may  fometimes  imagine  that  he  is  doing  good  fervice  to  God. 

The  firfi:  fruits  of  an  evil-thinking  fpirit  are  calumny  and  ^e~ 
traiStion,  by  which  fociety  is  fo  often  embroiled,,  and  men  are  fet 
at  variance  with  one  another.  But  did  it  proceed  no  farther  than 
cenforious  fpeech,  the  mifchief  would  be  lefs.  Much  greater  and 
more  ferious  evils  frequently  enlue.  What  direful  efFedts,  for  in- 
flance,  have  often  flowed  from  rafh  and  ill-founded  jealoufy  in  pri- 
vate life  ?  No  fooner  has  one  allowed  that  daemon  to  take  poflef- 
fion  of  his  mind,  than  it  perverts  his  underftanding,  and  taints  all 
his  faculties.  Haunting  him  by  night  and  by  day,  bringing  per- 
perpetually  before  him  the  odious  and  difquieting  forms  vv'hich  it 
had  raifed  up,  it  blackens  every  appearance  to  his  view ;  gives  to 
trifles^  which  are  in  themfelves  light  as  air,  the  weight  of  full 
confirmation  ;  till  v/hat  was  at  firft  a  dubious  furmife,  or  a  flight 
difpleafure,  riles  at  length  into  full  belief  and  implacable  fury. 
Hence  families  torn  with  the  moft  violent  convuifions ;  the  hulband 
armed  againft  the  wife,  the  father  againft  the  fon,  the  friend  a- 
gainft  the  friend  ;  the  plan  of  treachery  and  affaflination  contriv^ 
ed,  and  the  dagger  plunged  into  the  bofom  of  the  innocent. — In 
public  life,  how  often  have  kingdoms  been  fliaken  with  all  the 
violence  of  v/ar  and  rebellion,  from  the  unjuft  fufpicions  which 
fubjeds  had  conceived  of  their  rulers  ;  or  the  rafh  jealoufy  which 
princes  had  entertained  of  their  people? — But  it  is  in  religious  dif- 
fenfions  chiefly,  that  the  mifchievous  power  of  uncharitable  pre- 
judice has  difplayed  its  full  atrocity,  Relig^n  is  always  found  to 
heighten  every  pafTion  on  which  it  ads,  and  to  render  every  con- 
tefl  into  which  it  enters,  uncommonly  ardent  ;  becaufe  the  objects 
which  it  prefents  are  of  fuch  a  nature,  as  ftrongly  to  feize  and 
engage  the  human  mind.  When  zeal  for  their  own  principles  has 
prompted  men  to  view  thofe  of  a  different  perfnafion  in  the  odious 
lights  which  bigotry  fuggefls,  every  fentiment  of  humanity  has  too 
often  been  extinguiflied.  The  mild  influence  of  that  religion^ 
which  breathes  nothing  but  gentlenefs,  has  proved  too  feeble  to 
reftrain  the  violent  and  bloody  hand  of  perfecution  ;  and  the  un- 
charitable 


70  Oft  Candour. 

charitable  fpirit,  raging  among  contending  parties,  has  filled  the 
world  with  fuch  calamities  and  crimes,  as  have  brought  difgrace 
oil  the  Chriftian  name. 

Let   us  attend  particularly  to  one  awful  inftance  of  the  guilt 
which  men  may  contract,  and  of  the  ruin  which  they  may  bring 
upon  themfelves,  through  the  want  of  fairnefs  and  candour.    The 
nation  of  the  Jews  were  almofi  noted  for  a  narrow  and  unchari- 
table fpirit.     When  John  the  Baptili,  and  our  blefled  Lord,  ap- 
peared among  them,  becaufe  the  former  was  auftere  in  his  tern  - 
per  and  retired  in  his  life,  they  pronounced  of  him  that  he  had 
an  evil  fpirit :  and  becaufe  the  latter  was  open  and  lociable  in  his  man- 
ners, they  held  him  to  be  deditute  of  that  fandity  v^hich  became 
a  prophet.     Their  prejudice  againit  our  Lord  took  its  firft  rife  from 
a  moft  frivolous  and  contemptible  caufe.     Is  not  this  the  fon  of  the 
carpenter  r'  Can  any  good  thing  come  oiit  of  Nazareth  P  \V  hen  his  mi- 
racles repelled  this  reproach,  and  fufficiently  proved  the  eminence 
of  his  character,  ftill  they  foftered  their  prejudices  by  this  moft  fu- 
tile reaioning,  Haiw  any  of  the  rulers  believed  on  him  P   Obftinate  in 
their  attachment  to  a  temporal  Meffiah,  and  continuing   to  view- 
all  our  Saviour's  conduct  with  an  evil  eye,  when  he  converfed 
■with  bad  men,  in  order  to  reclaim  them,  they  treated  him  as  a 
companion  of  puhlicans  and  finners.     Becaufe  he  difallowed  their 
groundlefs  traditions,  they  held  him  to  be  a  breaker  of  the  Sab- 
bath, and  a  contemner  of  religion.     Becaufe  he  prophefied   the 
dcftruftion  of  their  temple,  they  accufed  him  of  being  an  enemy 
to  his  own  nation.     Till  at  laft,  through  their  perpetual  mifcon- 
flruclion  of  his  actions,  their  paflions  became  fo  inflamed  as  to  make 
them  cry  out  witli  one  voice,  Away  -mth  this  man  to  the  death,  and 
give  us  Barabbai  the  robber, — Viewing  in  this  dreadful  event  the 
confequences  of  want  of  candour,  let  every  man  tremble  to  think 
evil  raflily  of  his  brother.     No  one  can  tell  how  far  uncharitable 
prejudices  may  carry  him  in  guilt,  if  he  allow  them  to  harbour 
and  gather   ftrcngth  within  his  breaft.     The  cloud  which  rofe 
from  the  fed,  no  bigger  thanaman^s  handy  may  loon  fwelland  fpread, 
till  it  cover  the  whole  horizon,  and  difcharge  with  moft  deftruc* 
live  violence  the  gathered  ftorm. 

In  the  fifth  place,  as  a  fufpicious  fpirit  is  the  fource  of  fo  many 
crimes  and  calamities  in  the  v.orld^  fo  it  is  the  fpring  of  certain 

mifery 


On  Candour,  7 1 

tnifery  to  the  perfon  who  indulges  it.  His  friends  will  be  few  ; 
and  fmall  will  be  his  comfort  in  thofe  whom  he  poflelTes.  Believ- 
ing others  to  be  his  enemies,  he  will  of  courfe  make  them  fuch. 
Let  his  caution  be  ever  fo  great,  the  afperity  of  his  thoughts  will 
often  break  out  in  his  behaviour;  and  in  return  for  fufpe6ting  and 
hating,  he  will  incur  fufpicion  and  hatred.  Befides  the  exter- 
nal evils  which  he  draws  upon  himfelf,  arifing  from  alienated 
friendfhip,  broken  confidence,  and  open  enmity ;  the  fufpicious 
temper  itfelf  is  one  of  the  worfl  evils  which  any  man  can  fulFer. 
If  in  all  fear  there  be  torment,  how  miferable  rauft  be  his  (late  who, 
by  living  in  perpetual  jealoufy,  lives  in  perpetual  dread  ?  Looking 
upon  himfelf  to  be  furrounded  with  fpies,  enemies,  and  defigning 
men,  he  is  a  ftranger  to  reliance  and  truft.  He  know  s  not  to  whom 
to  open  himfelf.  He  drefles  his  countenance  in  forced  fmile.*^,  while 
his  heart  throbs  within  from  apprehenfions  of  fecret  treachery. 
Hence  fretfulnefs  and  ill-humour,  difguft  at  the  world,  and  all  the 
painful  fenfations  of  an  irritated  and  embittered  mind. 

So  numerous  and  great  are  the  evils  arillng  from  a  fufpicious  dif- 
pofition,  that  of  the  two  extremes  it  is  more  eligible  to  expofe  our- 
felves  to  occafional  difad^^antage  from  thinking  too  well  of  others, 
than  to  fufFer  continual  mifery  by  thinking  always  ill  of  them.  It 
is  better  to  be  fometimes  impofed  upon,  than  never  totruft.  Safe- 
ty is  purchafed  at  too  dear  a  rate,  when,  in  order  to  fecure  it,  we 
are  obliged  to  be  always  clad  in  armour,  and  to  live  in  perpetual 
hoftility  with  our  fellows.  This  is,  for  the  fake  of  living,  to  de- 
prive ourfelves  of  the  comfort  of  life.  The  man  of  candour  en- 
joys his  fituation,  whatever  it  is,  with  cheerfulnefs  and  peace. 
Prudence  directs  his  intercourfe  with  the  world  ;  but  no  black  fuf- 
picions  haunt  his  hours  of  reft.  Accuftomed  to  view  the  charac- 
ters ot  his  neighbours  in  the  moft  favourable  light,  he  is  like  one 
who  dwells  amidft  thofe  beautiful  fcenes  of  nature,  on  which  the 
eye  refts  with  pleafure.  Whereas  the  fufpicious  man,  having  his 
imagination  filled  with  all  the  (hocking  forms  of  human  falfehood, 
deceit,  and  treachery,  refembles  the  traveller  in  the  wildernefs, 
who  difcer.is  no  objects  around  him  but  what  are  either  dreary  or 
terrible ;  caverns  that  open,  ferpents  that  hifs,  and  beafts  of  prey 
that  howl.  Hence  in  him  are  veriiaed  thofe  defcriptions  which 
the  Spirit  of  God  has  given  us  of  the  mifsry  of  the  wicked.  They 
Jhall  have  no  peace.     They  fJmll  be  like  the  troubled  fea,  when  it  can- 

not 


7^  On  Candour. 

not  refi.  The  Lordfi^all  give  them  a  irenibliyig  heart,  and  failing  of 
eycsy  and  Jorro'jj  of  mind :  And  they  J): all  fear  day  and  nighty  and 
have  none  aj/urance  cf  heart. — I  add, 

In  the  fixth  and  laft  place,  that  there  is  nothing  which  expofes 
men  in  a  more  marked  and  direvSi:  manner  to  the  difpleafure  of  the 
Almighty,  than  a  malignant  and  ccnforious  fpirit.  I  infift  not 
now  on  the  general  denunciations  of  divine  wrath  againft  njalice 
and  hatred.  Let  us  only  confider  under  what  particular  defcrip- 
tion  the  Spirit  of  God  brings  this  crime  of  uncharitable  judgment. 
It  is  declared  to  be  an  impious  invafion  of  the  prerogative  of  God^ 
to  whom  alone  it  belongs  to  fearch  all  hearts,  and  to  determine 
concerning  all  characters.  This  privilege  He  often  appropriates 
cxprefsly  to  himfelf,  on  purpofe  to  redraia  the  rafhnefs  of  cen- 
fure  among  men  ;  requiring  us  to  leave  the  judging  of  others  to 
Him,  and  to  attend  to  our  own  bufinefs  and  duty.  IVho  art  thou 
that  judge/}  another  man' s  fervant  P  To  his  own  mafier,  hejiandeth 
or  falkth.  "judge  nothing  before  the  time  ;  until  the  Lord  corns,  who 
fnall  make  m.anifefi  the  counfels  of  the  heart, "^      ^ 

It  deCerves  our  mod  ferious  attention,  that,  in  feveral  pafiages 
of  Scripture,  the  great  Judge  cf  the  world  is  reprefented,  at  the 
day  of  final  retribution,  as  proceeding  upon  this  principle,  of  ren- 
dering to  men  according  to  the  manner  in  which  they  have 
afted  towards  their  brethren.  JVith  the  merciful,  thou  wilt  Jho\\> 
ihy/elf  merciful ;  and  with  the  froward,  thou  wilt  fhow  thyfelf  fro- 
ivard.  J'/ith  what  judgment  ye  judge,  ye //.'a!/ he  judged  ;  and  with 
what  meafureye  mete,  it  fnall  he  meajured  to  you  again,  f  It  isim- 
poflible  to  form  an  argument  of  more  force  than  this,  to  reftrain  all 
feverity  of  judgment  among  fuch  as  look  forward  to  the  tribunal 
cf  Cod.  The  arguir^ent  extentis  not  indeed  fo  far,  as  to  repre- 
fent  our  acceptance  with  the  Deity  as  entirely  fufpended  upon  the 
candour  which  we  llunv  in  forming  our  fentiments  of  others.  We 
know  that  other  graces  befides  this  are  requifite,  in  order  to  fit  nS 
for  heaven  ;  and  that  w  ithout  piety  towards  God,  and  faith  in  the 
Lord  Jefus  Chrifr,  all  our  charity  to  men  will  be  found  defective 
and  vain.  But  this  we  know  alfo,  that  in  the  heart  which  is  i]e[- 
titute  of  fjirnefs  and  candour,  the  Spirit  of  God  certainly  dv/ells 
not;  and  that  whatever  appearances  of  religion  the  uncharitablg 

man 
*  Rom.  xiv.  4,  I  Cor,  iv.  5.     f  Pfalm,  xviii.  ^5;  26.  Matt.  vii.  s\ 


0-n  Candour t  y^ 

man  may  aiTiime,  on  him  the  Sovereign  of  the  nniverfe  looks  with 
no  favour. — Thou  who  nrt  a  man  full  of  frailties,  whoftandeft  in 
need,  not  merely  of  impartiality  in  thy  divine  Judge,  but  of  in- 
dulgence and  mercy  :  Thou  who  implcrelt  daily  this  mercy  from 
Him,  and  prayeft  that  He  would  rethcmkr  thou  art  dvjj,  and  not 
be  ftrid:  to  mark  iniquity  agawji  thee ;  darfft  thou,  with  thofe  ve- 
ry prayers  in  thy  mouth,  proceed  to  judge  without  candour  of  thy 
brethren,  and  upon  the  flighteft  grounds  to  reprobate  and  con- 
demn them  ?  O  thou  hypocrite  !  (for  by  what  other  name  can  we 
call  thee?)  vain  are  all  thy  pretenficns  to  piety.  Ineffedual  is  e- 
very  plea  which  thou  canft  form  for  mercy  from  heaven.  The 
precedent  which  thou  haft  eftablifhcd  againft  thyfelf  is  decifive. 
Thou  haft  didbted  the  fentence  of  thine  own  condemnation. 

On  the  whole,  it  clearly  appears  that  no  part  of  the  govern- 
raent  of  temper  deferves  attention  more,  than  to  keep  our  minds 
pure  from  uncharitable  prejudices,  and  open  to  candour  and  hu- 
manity in  judging  of  others.  The  worft  confequences,  both  to 
ourfelves  and  to  fociety,  follow  from  the  oppofiie  fpirit.  Let  us 
beware  of  encouraging  a  habit  of  fufpicion,  by  forming  too  fe- 
Vere  and  harfii  opinions  concerning  human  nature  in  general.  A 
great  proportion  of  infirmity  aud  corruption,  doubtlefs,  adheres 
to  it  ;  yet  tempered  alfo  it  is  with  various  mixtures  of  virtue  and 
good  afFedion.  Darkened  as  the  Divine  image  now  is  among 
mankind,  it  is  not  wholly  effaced.  Much  piety  and  goodnefsmay 
lie  hidden  in  hearts  that  are  unknown  to  us.  Vice  is  glaring  and 
Joud.  The  crimes  of  the  wicked  make  a  noife  in  the  world,  and 
alarm  fociety.  True  worth  is  retired  and  modeft,  and  requires  par- 
ticular fituations  to  bring  it  forth  to  public  notice.  The  prophet 
Elijah,  in  a  time  of  prevailing  corruption,  imagined  that  all  true 
religion  had  forfaken  the  land.  /,  even  I  only j  faid  he  to  the 
Lord,  am  left  to  ferve  thee.  But  the  Almighty,  who  difcerned 
what  was  concealed  from  his  imperfed  view,  replied,  Tet  have  1 
left  me  [even  thoufand  men  in  Ifrad  i^ho  have  not  bo-ved  the  knee  /* 
Baal.'' 

The  aged  and  the  unfortunate,  who  have  toiled  through  an  un- 

fuccefsful  life  with  long  experience  of  the  falfehood  and  fraud  of 

evil  men,  are  apt  to  be  the  moli  ftvere  in  the  opinions  which  they 

entertain  of  others.     For  fuch,  their  circumftances  may  be  allow- 

*   X  Kirgs,  xix.  14,  18,  cd 


74  ^«  Candwr. 

ed  to  form  fome  degree  of  apology.  But  if,  in  youth  and  profp^- 
rity,  the  fan)e  hard  fufpiciousfpirit  prevail ;  if  they  who  are  begin- 
ning the  career  of  life  fet  out  with  all  the  fcruples  of  diftruft ;  if, 
before  they  have  had  reafon  to  complain  of  the  world,  they  be- 
tray the  diffidence  of  a  jealous,  and  the  malignity  of  a  cenforious 
mind,  fad  is  the  prefage  which  may  thence  be  drawn  of  their  future 
honour.  From  fuch,  you  have  nothing  to  look  for  that  fliall  be 
either  engaging  in  private  life,  or  refpedlable  in  public  character. 
To  youth  it  particularly  belongs  to  be  generous  in  fentiment,  can- 
did in  opinion,  undefigning  in  behaviour,  open  tothemoft  favour- 
able conftruclion  of  anions  and  conduft.  Throughout  all  the 
ftages  of  life,  candour  is  one  of  the  moft  honourable  diftindions  of 
the  human  chara(fler  ;  it  is  connected  with  magnanimity  ;  it  isjuftifi- 
ed  by  wildom  ;  itisfuitable  to  the  relation  in  which  weftandto  one 
another.  But  if  reafon  and  humanity  be  infufficient  to  reftrain  us 
from  rafli  and  uncharitable  judgments,  let  that  awful  denunciation 
frequently  refound  in  our  ears.  He  floall  have  judgment  without 
mercy  litho  hath  Jheiued  no  mercy ^ 


SERMON 


I    75    3 

SERMON       XXVL 

On  the  Character  of  J  o  s  e  p  h. 

G  E  N  E  s  I  s,     xlv.  5,  8. 

No-iu  therefore  be  not  grieved  nor  ar.gry  -with  yourftlves  thai  ye  fdd 
me  hither  ;  for  Gcd  did  fend  me  before  you  to  preferve  hfe, — 5a 
mw  It  was  not  you  that  fent  me  hither,  but  Cod. 

IN  this  generous  manner,  Jofeph  frames  an  apology  for  the  nn* 
natural  behaviour  of  his  brethren.  He  extenuates  the  atrocity 
of  their  crime,  by  reprefenting  the  happy  eft'eds  which  it  had  pro- 
duced. He  looks  beyond  ali  fecond  csufes;  and  recognizes,  in 
the  wonderful  events  of  his  life,  the  hand  of  the  Almighty. — No 
human  charafter,  exhibited  in  the  records  of  Scripture,  is  more 
remarkable  or  indrudive  than  that  of  this  patriarch.  He  is  one 
whom  we  behold  tried  in  all  the  vicifiitudes  of  fortune  ;  from  the 
condition  of  a  flave,  rifing  to  be  ruler  of  the  land  of  Egypt ;'  and 
in  every  ftation  acquiring,  by  his  vii  tue  and  wifdom,  favour  with 
God  and  man.  When  overfeer  of  Potiphar's  houfe,  his  fidelity- 
was  proved  by  ftrong  temptations,  which  he  honourably  refified. 
"When  thrown  into  prifon  by  the  artifice  of  a  falfe  woman,  his  in- 
tegrity and  prudence  foon  rendered  him  confpicuous,  even  in  that 
dark  manfion.  When  called  into  the  prefence  of  Pharoah,  the 
wife  and  extenfive  plan  which  he  formed  for  laving  the  kingdom 
from  the  miferies  of  in)pending  famine,  jufily  railed  him  to  a  high 
fiation,  wherein  his  abilities  were  eminently  difplayed  in  the  pub- 
lic fervice.  Bat  in  his  whole  hiftory  there  is  no  circumftance  fo 
ftriking  and  interefting,  as  his  behaviour  to  his  brethren  who  had 
fold  him  into  (lavery.  The  m.oment  in  which  he  made  himfelf 
known  to  them,  that  moment  at  which  we  are  now  to  contemplate 
him,  was  the  mod  critical  one  of  his  life,  and  the  moft  decifive 
of  his  character.  It  is  fuch  as  rarely  occurs  in  the  courfe  of  huiuarj 
events;  and  is  calculated  to  draw  the  high^il  attention  of  sU  who 

I  are 


^6  On  the  Chara6icr 

are  endowed  with  any  degree  of  fenfibility  of  heart.  Let  us  ccfi- 
fider  the  fentiment  w  hich  J  ofeph  utters  in  the  text  under  two  views, 
each  of  which  is  very  inftrudive  to  all  Chriftians.  I.  As  a  difco- 
Very  of  his  cordial  forgivenefs  of  his  brethren  ;  and,  II.  As  an 
inftance  of  his  dutiful  attention  to  the  Providence  of  God. 

I.  The  mod  cordial  forgivenefs  is  here  difplayed.  I  fnall  not 
recapitulate  all  the  preceding  hiflory  refpeding  Jofeph  and  his 
brethren  ;  as  it  is  well  known  by  every  one  who  has  the  leaft  ac- 
quaintance with  the  facred  writings.  From  the  whole  tenour  of 
the  narration  it  appears  that  though  Jofeph,  upon  the  arrival  of 
his  brethren  in  Egypt,  made  himfelt  ftrange  to  them,  yet  from 
the  beginning  he  intended  to  difcover  himielt ;  and  ftudied  fo  to 
conduct  the  difcovery  as  might  render  the  furprife  of  joy  complete. 
For  this  end,  by  affected  feverity,  het^ok  meafures  for  bringing^ 
down  into  Egypt  all  his  father's  children.  They  were  now  arriv- 
ed there;  and  Benjamin  among  the  reft,  who  was  his  younger 
brother  by  the  fame  mother,  and  was  particularly  beloved  by 
Jofeph.  Him  he  threatened  to  detain  ;  and  feemed  willing  to  al- 
low the  reft  to  depart.  This  incident  renewed  their  diftrefs.  They 
all  knew  their  father's  extreme  anxiety  about  the  fafety  of  Ben- 
jaminj  and  witji  what  difficulty  he  had  yielded  to  his  undertak- 
ing this  journey.  Should  he  be  prevented  from  returning,  they 
dreaded  that  grief  would  overpower  the  old  man's  fpirits,  and 
prove  fatal  to  his  life.  Judah,  therefore,  who  had  particularly 
urged  the  necefTity  of  Benjamin's  accompanying  his  brothers,  and 
had  folemnly  pledged  himfelf  to  their  father  for  his  fafc  return^ 
craved.  Upon  this  occafion,  an  audience  of  the  governor;  and 
gave  him  a  full  account  of  the  circumftances  of  Jacob's  family. 

Nothing  can  be  more  interefting  and  pathetic  than  this  difcourfc 
of  Judah,  as  it  is  recorded  in  the  preceding  chapter.  Little 
knowing  to  whom  he  fpoke,  he  peints,  in  all  the  colours  of  fimple 
and  natural  eloquence,  the  diftrelTed  fituation  of  the  aged  patriarch, 
haftening  to  the  clofe  of  life;  long  sfflidted  for  the  lofs  of  a  fa- 
vourite fon,  whom  he  iupppofed  to  have  been  tern  in  pieces  by  a 
beaft  of  prey  ;  labouring  now  under  anxious  concern  about  his 
youngeft  fon,  the  child  of  his  old  age,  who  alone  was  left  alive 
»)f  his  mother,  and  whom  nothing  but  the  calamities  of  fevere  fa- 
mine 


tfjofipb.  77 

mine  could  have  moved  a  tender  father  to  fend  from  home,  and  ex. 
pofe  to  the  dangers  of  a  foreign  land*  "  If  we  bring  him  not  back 
'^  with  us,  we  fliall  bring  down  the  grey  hairs  of  thy  fervant, 
*'  our  father,  with  forrow,  to  the  grave.  I  pray  thee  therefore 
"  let  thy  fervant  abide  inftead  of  the  young  man,  a  bondman  to 
*'  our  lord.  For  how  fhall  I  go  up  to  my  father,  and  Benjamia 
'*  not  with  me?  left  I  fee  the  evil  that  (liall  come  on  my  father," 

Upon  this  relation,  Jofeph  could  no  longer  reftrain  himfelf.  The 
tender  ideas  of  his  father  and  of  his  father's  houfe,  of  his  ancient 
home,  his  country  and  his  kindred,  of  the  diftrefs  of  his  family, 
and  his  own  exaltation,  allrufhed  too  ftrongly  upon  his  mind  to 
bear  any  further  concealment.  He  cried ^  caufe  every  man  to  go  out 
from  me  ;  and  he  wept  aloud.  The  tears  which  he  fhed  were  not 
the  tears  of  grief.  They  were  the  burft  of  affediion.  They  were 
the  efTufions  of  a  heart  overflowing  with  all  the  tender  fenfibilities 
of  nature.  Formerly  he  had  been  moved  in  the  fame  manner,  whea 
he  firft  fa w  his  brethren  before  him .  His  bowe/s yearned  upon  them  ; 
he  fought  for  a  place  where  to  weep.  He  went  into  his  chamber;  and 
then  wafhed  his  face  and  returned  to  them.  At  that  period  his  gene» 
rous  plans  were  not  completed.  But  now,  when  there  was  no  far- 
ther occafion  for  conftraining  himfelf,  he  gave  free  vent  to  the  ftrorig 
emotions  of  his  heart.  The  firft  minifter  to  the  king  of  Egypt  w  as 
not  afhamed  to  fhow,  that  he  felt  as  a  man,  and  a  brother.  He 
wept  aloud,  and  the  Egyptians,  and  the  houfe  of  Pharoah  heard  him^ 

The  firft  words  which  his  fwclling  heart  allowed  him  to  pronounce, 
are  the  moft  fui table  to  fuch  an  affeding  fituation  which  were  e- 
ver  uttered; — lam  Jofeph  j  doth  my  father  yet  live  ? — What  could 
he,  what  ought  he,  in  that  impaffioned  moment,  to  have  faid 
more  ?  This  is  the  voice  of  nature  herfelf,  fpeaking  her  own  lan- 
guage ;  and  it  penetrates  the  heart :  No  pomp  of  exprefTion  ;  no 
parade  of  kindnefs ;  but  ftrong  affe(Sion  haftening  to  utter  what  it 
ftrongly  felt.  His  brethren  could  not  anfwer  him;  for  they  were 
troubled  at  his  prefence.  Their  filence  is  as  expreffivc  of  thofe  emo- 
tions of  repentance  and  fliame,  which,  on  this  amazing  difeovery, 
filled  their  breafts,  and  ftopped  their  utterance,  as  the  few  words 
which  Jofeph  fpeaks  are  exprefTive  of  the  generous  agitations 
which  ftruggled  for  vent  within  him.  No  painter  could  feize  a 
more  ftriking  moment  for  difplaying  tlie  eharacteriftical  features 

of 


7?  On  the  Charadcr 

of  ths  liuaian  heart,  than  what  is  here  preiented.  Never  was 
there  a  fituation  of  more  tender  and  virtuous  joy,  on  the  one 
hand  ;  nor,  on  the  other,  of  more  overwhehning  confufion  and 
confcious  guilt.  In  the  fimple  narration  of  the  facred  biftorian, 
it  is  fee  before  us  with  greater  energy  and  higher  eftecl,  than  if  it 
had  been  wrought  up  with  all  the  colouring  of  the  mod  adniired 
modern  eloquence. 

When  Jofeph  had  a  little  recovered  himfelf  from  the  firft  tran- 
fports  of  emotion,  he  proceeds  to  explain  his  fituation  to  his  bre- 
thren, and  to  Hiow  them  the  beneficent  purpofes  for  which  ha 
conceived  himfelf  to  be  raifed  by  Providence  into  power.  The  a- 
pology  which  he  makes  in  the  text  for  their  former  cruelty  is  un- 
common and  remarkable.  *'  Now  therefore  be  not  grieved  nor 
"  angry  with  yourfelves  that  ye  fold  me  hither  ;  for  God  did  fend 
*'  me  before  you  to  preferve  you  a  pofterity  in  the  earth,  and  to 
'*  fave  your  lives  by  a  great  deliverance.  So  now  it  was  not 
*'  you  that  fent  me  hither,  but  God  ;  and  he  hath  made  me  a  fa- 
*^  iher  to  Pharoah,  and  lord  of  all  his  houfe,  and  a  ruler  through- 
*'  out  all  the  land  of  Egypt.''  This  apology  was,  in  truth,  no 
fatisfadory  excufe  for  their  crime.  Fi)r  though  the  over- ruling 
Providence  of  Heaven  had  fo  directed  the  courfe  of  events,  as  to 
render  their  bad  intentions  fubfervient  to  a  happy  ilTue  ;  yet  the 
badnefs  of  the  intention  originated  entirely  from  themfelves.  The 
envy  and  jealoufy  which  they  entertained  againft  their  brother, 
led  thein  to  the  cornmifTion  of  an  atrocious  deed.  The  deed  was 
voluntary;  the  crime  was  all  their  own  ;  and  the  interpofition  of 
Providence,  in  making  unforefeen  confequences  follow  from  that 
crime,  did  not,  could  not  exculpate  them  from  guilt.  It  were  an 
impious  conclufion,  that  becaufe  God  extracts  good  from  our  evil,  we 
are  not  anfwerable  for  the  evil  which  we  perpetrate.  Cod  cannot  be 
tempted  with  evil,  neither  tempteth  he  any  man.*  But  the  fenti- 
ment  in  the  text  is  to  be  confidered,  as  a  colour  which  the  gene- 
rous humanity  of  Jofeph  prompted  him  to  throw  on  the  conduct  of 
his  brethren.  He  faw  the  confufion  with  which  they  were  over- 
whelmed in  his  prefence.  He  diverts  their  attention  from  the 
remembrance  of  a  crime  which  was  now  wringing  their  hearts 
•with  anguifl];  by  reprefenting  to  them*  the  happy  cfFeds  which 

that 
*  Jamej,  i,  13, 


of  Jofeph.  79 

that  crime  had  produced.  He  fets  theai  free  from  all  uneafinefs 
on  his  account.  He  calls  upon  them  to  rejoice  in  his  profperity  j 
and,  inftead  of  dwelling  on  a  painful  recoUeftion  of  their  own  con- 
duct, to  join  with  him  in  acknowledging  and  adoring  the  hand  of 
tlie  Almighty. 

How  different  is  this  amiable  fpirit  which  Jofeph  difcovers,  from 
that  harfli  and  oftentatious  fuperiority  which  too  often  accompa- 
jiies  the  pretended  forgivenefs  of  injuries  among  thofe  who  call 
themlelves  Chriftians!  They  are  ready  to  fay,  that,  for  their  part, 
they  pardon  the  wrongs  which  have  been  done  them  ;  they  wifli 
that  the  perfons  who  have  committed  them  may  be  able  to  forgive 
themfelves ;  they  leave  them  to  God  and  to  their  own  confcience. 
By  the  fevere  fuggeftions  which  they  throw  out,  they  difcover  the 
inw*rd  bitternefs  of  their  fpirit ;  and  artfully  gratify  refentment, 
at  the  time  when  they  profefs  to  exercife  forgivenefs.  Whereas 
the  great  and  good  man,  whofe  charader  we  now  confider,  effac- 
es all  memory  of  the  crimes  which  he  pardons.  He  feeks  to  al- 
leviate the  remorfe  of  his  brethren  by  an  extenuation  of  their  guilt  • 
and,  while  he  is  preparing  to  make  their  circumftances  comforta- 
ble, ftudies  at  the  fame  time  to  render  their  minds  eafy  and  tran- 
quil. 

This  was  not  merely  a  tranfient  emotion  with  Jofeph,  owing  to 
the  firft  burd  of  affection  on  difcovering  himfelf  to  his  brethren. 
We  have  a  clear  proof,  from  a  remarkable  tranfadlion  which 
paffed  many  years  after  this  period,  of  his  difpofition  continuing  the 
fame  to  the  end  of  life.  It  is  recorded  in  the  laft  chapter  of  this 
book,  that  when  Jacob  died,  his  fons  began  to  be  feized  with  fear 
concerning  the  treatment  which  they  might  receive  from  their  bro- 
ther. The  guilty  are  always  fufpicious.  Confcious  of  their  own 
bafenefs,  they  are  incapable  of  conceiving  the  magnanimity  of  o- 
thers.  They  faw  the  bond,  which  held  the  family  together,  now 
broken  by  their  father's  death.  They  dreaded  that  the  refent- 
ment of  Jofeph  againft  them  had  hitherto  been  only  fupprelled, 
or  concealed .  They  f aid  among  themfelves  ^  per  adventure  he  wil/m-dj 
hate  us,  and  requite  all  the  evil  which  we  did  unto  him.  Under  this 
apprehenfion,  they  firft  fent  a  humble  meffage  to  deprecate  his  dif- 
pleafure  by  the  memory  of  their  common  father  ;  and  then  appear- 
ing in  his  prefence,  they  fell  dov/n  before  his   face,  profeffing 

themfelves 


5^0  Ott  the  Characfer 

themfelves  to  be  his  ferrants,  and  praying  him  to  forgive  the  tref- 
pafs  which  they  had  committed  againft  him.  But  no  fuch  hidden 
refentment  as  they  dreaded  had  ever  lurked  in  the  foul  of  Jofeph. 
On  the  contrary,  when  he  beheld  his  brethren  in  this  afFefting  fi- 
tuation,  bereaved  of  their  ancient  protestor,  and  reduced,  as  they 
imagined,  to  tlie  necediry  of  holding  up  their  hands  to  him  for 
mercy,  he  was  overpowered  by  a  tide  of  tender  emotions.  Jofeph 
vept,  while  his  hrethroi  fpah  unto  him.  Thefe  afTedionate  tears 
nlone  were  fnfficient  to  have  afTured  them  of  his  torgivenefs.  But 
haftenincr  alfo  by  words  to  difpel  their  alarms,  he  prefently  added, 
'^  Fear  nf)t :  for  though  you  thought  evil  againft  me,  God  meant 
'^  it  unto  good.  Now  therefore  fear  ye  not ;  I  will  nourifli  you 
"  and  your  little  ones.  And  he  comforted  them  and  fpake 
*'  kindly  unto  them.''* 

Such  was  the  laft  incident  that  is  recorded  in  the  life  of  this  e- 
minent  perfonagc,  than  whom  you  will  find  few  more  diftinguifli- 
fd  by  an  aiTemblage  ofilluUrious  virtues;  in  the  lowed  adverfity, 
patient  and  faithful i  in  the  higheft  profperity,  beneficerit  and  ge- 
nerous; dutiful  and  affectionate,  as  a  fon  ;  kind  and  forgiving,  a* 
a  brother;  accomplilhed  as  a  ftatefman  ;  wife  and  provident,  as  a 
ruler  of  the  land.  In  fuch  a  character  you  behold  human  nature 
poireihng  its  higheft  honours.  The  feutiments  which  it  infpires 
tend  to  ennoble  our  minds ;  and  to  prevent  their  imbibing  the  fpi- 
rit  of  thofe  hard,  interefted;  and  felf-feeking  men  with  whom  the 
world  abounds. 

The  ftriking  example  of  forgivenefs,  which  the  text  dlfplays, 
ought  frequently  to  occur  to  our  thoughts,  amidft  the  various  oc- 
cafions  of  provocation  and  offence  which  arife  in  our  intercourfe 
with  the  world.  If  one  fo  worthy  and  amiable,  in  the  days  too 
of  his  youth  and  innocence,  fuffered  fuch  cruel  treatment  from 
his  brothers,  ought  we  to  be  furprifed  if,  even  from  our  nearefl: 
relations,  we  meet  with  injuftice,  or  ingratitude?  Wrongs  and  in- 
juries are,  more  or  lefs,  the  portion  of  all.  Like  Death,  they 
are  an  evil  unavoidable.  No  ftation  is  fo  high,  no  power  fo  great, 
no  charader  fo  unblemifhed,  as  to  exempt  us  from  them.  In  the 
world,  ungrateful  men,  falfe  friends,  and  violent  enemies  abound. 
£very  wife  man  ought  to  prepare  himfelf  for  what  he  is  to  en- 
♦  Ccn,  1.  21,  counter 


(f  JofepL  Si 

eOUntcr  in  pafting  through  this  thorny  rcgioT!.  Ke  is  not  to  ex- 
ped  that  he  can  gather  gropes  jrom  thijlles  ;  nor  to  lofe  the  govern- 
ment of  his  mind,  becaufe,  in  the  midft  of  evil  men,  he  is  not  al- 
lowed to  remain,  Hke  a  fecret  and  inviolable  perfon,  untouched 
and  uninjured. 

As  this  view  of  our  fituation  ought  to  blunt  the  edge  of  paflion  and 
impatience,  fo  the  alleviating  circumftances  which  reafon  will  fug- 
geft,  ought  to  mollify  refcntment.  Think  of  the  various  conft ruc- 
tions which  the  actions  of  men  will  bear»  Confider  how  different 
the  motives  of  him  who  hath  given  us  offence,  may  have  been 
from  thole  which,  in  the  heat  of  palTion,  we  afcribe  to  him;  how 
apt  all  men  are  to  be  feduced  by  miflaken  views  of  interefts,  and 
how  little  ground  we  have  to  complain,  if,  upon  a  fuppofed  in. 
terfering  of  interefts,  we  fufFer  by  others  preferring  their  own  to 
ours.  Remember  tlvit  no  opinions  which  you  form  under  the  pow- 
er of  refentment  can  be  depended  upon  as  juft;  and  that  every 
one  loads  the  intentions  of  his  enemy  with  imaginary  degrees  of 
'malice. 

But  admitting  the  injury  you  have  received  to  be  ever  fo  atro- 
cious in  its  nature,  and  aggravated  in  its  circumftances ;  fuppof- 
.ing  it  to  be  even  parallel  to  that  which  Jofeph  fuffered  j  look  up, 
like  him,  to  that  divine  government  under  which  we  are  all  plac- 
cd.  If  forgivenefs  be  a  duty  which  we  know  God  to  have  re- 
quired under  the  moft  awful  fandlions,  dare  we  draw  upon  onr- 
felves  the  merited  vengeance  of  that  Superiour  to  whofe  clemen- 
cy we  are  obliged  daily  to  fly?  When,  with  hard  and  unrelent- 
ing difpofitions  towards  our  brethren,  we  fend  up  to  Heaven 
prayers  for  mercy  to  ourfelves,  thofe  prayers  return  like  impre- 
cations upon  our  heads ;  and  our  very  devotions  Teal  our  con- 
demnation. 

The  moft  plain  and  natural  feniiments  of  equity  concux-  with 
divine  authority  to  enforce  the  duty  which  I  now  recommend,. 
Let  him  who  has  never  in  his  life  done  wrong,  be  allowed  the 
privilege  of  remaining  inexorable.  But  let  fuch  ai  are,  confci- 
ous  of  frailties  and  crimes,  confider  forgivenefs  as  a  debt  which 
they  owe  to  others.  Common  failings  are  the  flxongeft  ie([on  f;.f 
mutual  forbearance.     Were  this  Tirtue  i3fik«QV\'ii.  among  men, 

order , 


G2  On  the  Chara&e^^ 

order  and  comfort,  peace  and  repofe,  would  be  Grangers  to  human 
life.  Injuries  retaliated  according  to  the  exorbitant  nieafure  which 
pafTion  prefcribes,  would  juftify  refentment  in  return.  The  injur- 
ed perfon  would  become  the  injurer  ;  and  thus  wrongs,  retali- 
ations, and  freOi  injuries,  would  circulate  in  endlefs  luccefTion, 
till  the  world  was  rendered  a  field  of  blood.  Of  all  the  pafTions 
which  invade  the  human  bread,  revenge  is  the  mcfl  direful.  When 
allowed  to  rei^n  with  full  dominion,  it  is  more  than  fufficient  to 
poifon  ihc  few  pleafures  which  remain  to  man  in  his  prefent  flate. 
How  much  foever  a  perfon  may  fuffer  from  injuftiee,  he  is  always 
in  hazard  of  fufF^ring  more  from  the  profecution  of  revenge.  The 
violence  of  an  enemy  cannot  inflict  what  is  equal  to  the  torment 
he  creates  to  himfelf,  by  means  of  the  fierce  and  defperate  paf- 
fions  which  he  allows  to  rage  in  his  foul. 

Thofe  evil  fpirits  who  inhabit  the  regions  of  mifery,  are  repre» 
fented  as  delighting  in  revenge  and  cruelty.  But  all  that  is  great 
and  good  in  the  univerfe,  is  on  the  fide  of  clemency  and  mercy. 
The  almighty  Ruler  of  the  world,  though  for  ages  offended  by 
the  unrighteoufnefs,  and  infulted  by  the  impiety  of  men,  is  long- 
fufferwg  andjloix)  to  anger ^  His  Son,  when  he  appeared  in  our  na- 
ture, exhibited,  both  in  his  life  and  in  his  death,  the  moftilluilrious 
example  of  forgivenefs  which  the  world  ever  beheld.  If  you  lock 
into  the  hiflory  of  mankind,  ycu  will  find  that,  in  every  age,  thofe 
who  have  been  refpected  as  worthy,  or  admired  as  great,  have  been 
diflinguilhed  for  this  virtue.  Revenge  dwells  in  little  minds,  A  noble 
and  magnanimious  fpirit  is  always  fuperior  to  it.  It  fufrers  not  from 
the  injuries  of  men  thofe  fevere  fi:iocks  which  others  feel.  Collected 
within  itfelf,  it  (lands unmoved  by  their  impotent  afiaults  ;  and  with 
generous  pity,  rather  than  with  anger,  looks  down  on  their  un- 
w^orihy  conduct.  It  has  been  truly  faid,  that  the  greatefl  man  on 
earth  can  no  fooner  commit  an  injury,  than  a  good  man  can  make 
himfelf  greater,  by  forgiving  it.  Jofeph  at  the  moment  when  wc 
now  contemplate  him,  had  entirely  under  his  power  all  thofe  un- 
natural brethren  who  had  been  guilty  towards  him  of  the  moft 
cruel  outrage  which  m>en  could  perpetrate.  He  could  have  retain- 
ed them  for  ever  in  that  Egyptian  bondage  to  which  they  liad  once 
tonfigned  him  ;  and  have  graiiiied  revenge  by  every  accumula- 
tion of  difgracG  which  defpotic  power  enabled  him  to  infli(ft.    Had 

he 


■     ofjofeph,  8^ 

he  acted  this  part,  he  might  for  a  while  haVe  been  foothed  by  the 
pleafures  of  his  high  ftation  ;  but  remorfe,  in  the  end,  would  have 
Hung  his  foul.  Cruelty  would  have  rendered  him  unhappy  within 
himfelf,  as  well  as  odious  to  others;  and  his  name  would  have 
perifhed  among  the  croud  of  thofe  contemptible  Itatefinen  whofe 
anions  (tain  the  annals  of  hiftory.  Whereas  now,  his  character 
flands  among  the  foremoft  in  the  ranks  of  fpotlefs  fame.  Kis  me- 
mory is  bleffed  to  all  generations.  His  example  continues  to  edi« 
^y  the  world  ;  and  he  himfelf  Ihines  in  the  celeftial  regions  as  the 
hrigltnefs  of  the  firmament,  and  as  the  Jlars,  for  ever  and  ever. 
Let  us  now, 

II.  Consider  the  fentiment  contained  in  the  text  not  only  as 
a  difcovery  of  cordial  forgivenefs,  but  as  an  expreflion  of  devout 
attention  to  the  conduct  of  Providence.     So  noiu  it  was  not  you 
that  fent  me  hither ,  but  God.     Remark  how  beautifully  piety  and 
humanity  are,  in  this  inftance,  conneded  together.     As  we  are 
told  of  Cornelius,  the  good  Centurion,  that  his  prayers  and  his  alms, 
his  devotions  and  his  good  works,  came  up  together  in  memorial 
before  God]  fo  here  we  perceive  fraternal  aifedion  and  religious 
reverence,  mingling  ii\  one  emotion  within  the  patriarch's  heart. 
In  a  perfon  of  low  and  vulgar  mind,  the  fenfations  on  fuch  an 
occafion  would  have  been  extremely  different.     Looking  back  on 
the  part  events  of  his  life,  he  would  have  afcribed  all  the  adverfi- 
ty  which  he  had  fuffered  to  the  perverfe  treatment  of  his  brothers ; 
and  all  the  profperity  which  he  afterwards  attained,  to  his  own 
good  condu^^  and  wifdom  ;  and  by  confequence  would  have  re- 
mained imbittered  againft  the  inftruments  of  the  one,  and  filled 
with  pride  and  felf.lufficiency  on  account  of  the  other.     But  the 
elevated  and  noble  mind  of  Jofeph  rejeded  fuch  unworthy  fenti- 
ments.     Contemplating  the  hand  of  God  in  all  that  had  befallen 
him,  he  effaced  the  remembrance  of  thofe  evil  deeds  which  had  pro- 
duced his  adverfity  ;  and  for  his  profperity  he  affeded  nopraife  to 
himfelf,  but  afcribed  it  entirely  to  the  will  of  Heaven.     Let  us 
take  notice,  that  this  is  not  the  reflection  of  a  private,  retired  man, 
whofe  fitiiation  might  be  fuppofed  to  favour  fuch  devout  medita- 
tions.    It  is  the  reflexion  of  one,  who  was  leading  a  bufy  and  a 
feducing  life,  in  the  midfl  of  a  court  j  the  favourite  of  thegreat- 

K  cfl 


g4  Oh  the  Chara£^er 

eft  monarch  jfho  was  then  known  in  the  vvdrld.  Yet  him  you  ht" 
hold,  amidft  the  fubmiflion  and  adulation  which  was  paid  to  him, 
preferving  the  moderation  and  fimplicity  of  a  virtuous  mind;  and, 
amidft  the  idolatry  and  falfe  philofophy  of  the  Egyptians,  main- 
taining  the  principles  of  true  religion,  and  giving  glory  to  the  God 
of  Ifrael. 

From  this  union  of  piety  with  humanity,  which  is  fo  confpicu- 
cus  in  the  fentiments  of  Jofeph,  there  arifes  one  very  important 
inftruiftion ;  That  a  devout  regard  to  the  hand  of  God  in  the  vari- 
ous events  of  life,  tends  to  promote  good  difpofitions  and  affec- 
tions towards  men.     It  will  be  found  by  thofe  who  attend  to  the 
workings  of  human  nature,  that  a  great  proportion  of  thofe  ma- 
lignant paflions  which  break  out  in  the  intercourfe  of  men,  arifes 
from  confining  their  atteniion  wholly  to  fecond  caufes,  and  over- 
looking the  6ift  caufe  of  all.     Hence,  they  are  infolent  in  prof- 
perity,  becaufe  they  difcern  nothing  higher  than  their  own  abili- 
ties ;  and  in  adverfuy  they  are  peevifli  and  unforgiving,  becaufe 
they  have  no  objed  on  which  to  fix  their  view,  but  the  conduct 
of  men  who  have  aded  as  their  enemies.     They  behold  no  plaiv 
of  vvifdom  or  goodnefs  carried  on  throughout  nature,  which  can 
allay  the  difcompofure  of  their  mind.     As  foon  as  their  temper  is 
ruffled,  the  world  appears  to  them  to  be  a  continued  fcene  of  dif- 
afters  and  injuries,  of  confufed  events,  and  of  unreafonable  men. 
Whereas,  to  the  pious  man,  the  contemplation   of  the  univcrfe 
exhibits  a  very  different  fpe^acle.     In  the  midft  of  feeming  con- 
fufion  he  traces  a  principle  of  order  ;  and  by  attention  to  that  or- 
der, his  mind  is  harmonized  and  calmed.     He  beholds  a  wife  and 
righteous  Governour  presiding  over  all  the  commotions  which  are 
raifed  by  the  tumult  of  conflidingpaffions  and  interefts;  guiding, 
with  imperceptible  influence,  the  hand  of  the  violent  to  benefi- 
cent purpofes  ;  accomplifliing  unexpe<fled  ends  by  the  moft  impro- 
bable means  ;  obliging  the  -wrath  of  man  to  praife  him  ;  fometimcj 
humbling  the  mighty,  fometimes  exalting  the  low  ;  often  fnaring 
the  wicked  in  the  dojices  which  their  hands  have  wrought,     Refpedful 
acknowledgment  of  this  divine  government,  controuls  the  difor- 
ders  of  inferiour  paffions.     Reverence  for  the  decrees  of  Heaven 
infpires  patience  and  moderation.     Truft  in  that  perfect  wifdom 
and  goodnefs  which  dire(^s  all  for  the  beft,  diminiflies  the  fliock 

which 


^  Jofiph.  $5 

which  worldly  difafters  occafion.  The  irritation  of  pafTion  and 
refentment  will  always  bear  proportion  to  the  agitation  which  we 
fufFer  from  the  changes  of  fortune.  One  who  conneds  himfelf 
with  nothing  but  fecond  caufes,  partakes  of  the  violence  and  irre- 
gularity  of  all  the  inferiour  movements  belonging  to  this  great 
machine.  He  who  refers  all  to  God,  dwells,  if  we  may  fpeak  fo, 
in  that  higher  fphere  where  motion  begins;  he  is  fubjed  to  fewer 
Ihocks  and  concuiTions,  and  is  only  carried  along  by  the  motion  of 
the  univerfe. 

How  can  mildnefs  or  forgivenefs  gain  place  in  the  temper  of 
that  man,  who,  on  occafion  of  every  calamity  which  he  fuffers 
from  the  ill  ufuage  of  others,  has  no  fanftuary  within  his  own 
breafl  to  which  he  can  make  retreat  from  their  vexations;  who 
is  poflefled  of  no  principle  which  is  of  fufficient  power  to  bear  down 
the  rifing  tide  of  peevifh  and  angry  pafTions?  The  violence  of  an 
£nemy,  or  the  ingratitude  of  a  friend,  the  injuftice  of  one  man, 
and  the  treachery  of  another,  perpetually  dwell  and  rankle  in  his 
thoughts.  The  part  which  they  have  afted  in  bringing  on  his 
diftrefs,  is  frequently  more  grating  to  him  than  the  diftrefs  itfelf. 
Whereas  he  who  in  every  event  looks  up  to  God,  has  always  in 
his  view  a  great  and  elevating  obj^d  which  infpires  him  with  mag- 
nanimity. His  mind  lies  open  to  every  relieving  thought,  and  is 
inclined  to  every  fuggeflion  of  generofity.  He  is  difpofed  to  fay 
with  Jofeph,  it  was  not  you  thatfent  me  hither y  kutCod;  with  Da- 
vid, it  is  the  Lord;  let  him  do  what  Jeemeth good  in  his  eyes;  and 
v/ith  a  greater  Perfonage  than  either  of  thefe,  the  eup  which  my 
Father  hath  given  me  to  drink ,  Jhali  I  not  drink  it?  Hence  arifes  fu- 
periority  to  many  of  the  ordinary  provocations  of  the  world.  For 
he  looks  upon  the  whole  of  his  prefent  life  as  part  of  a  great  plan 
which  is  carried  on  under  tlie  diredlion  of  Heaven.  In  this  plan, 
he  views  men  as  ailing  their  feveral  parts,  and  contributing  to  his 
good  or  evil.  But  their  parts  he  confiders  as  fubordinate  ones; 
which,  though  they  may  juftly  merit  his  affection,  and  may  occa- 
(ionally  call  forth  his  refentment,  yet  afford  no  proper  foundation 
to  violent  or  malignant  palTion.  He  looks  upon  bad  men  as  only 
the  rod  with  which  the  Almighty  chaftens ;  like  the  peftilence,  the 
earthquake,  or  the  ftorm.  In  the  midlt  of  their  injulhce  and  vi- 
olence he  can  pity  their  blindnefs  ;  and  imitate  our  blefled  Lord 
in  praying,  Fat  her  ^  forgiue  them-,  for  they  knoiu  not  what  they  do. 


C     S6    ] 

SERMON       XXVII. 

On  the  Character  of  Hazael. 

2  Kings,  viii.  12,   13. 

Jnd  Hazael  f aid f  Why  iveepeft  my  LordP  And  he  dnfivered,  Be- 
cauje  I  know  the  evil  thai  thou  wilt  do  unto  the  children  of  IfraeL 
Their  Jlrong  holds  wilt  thou  fet  on  fire,  and  thdr  young  men  wilt 
thoujlay  ivith  the  fword,  and  wilt  dafli  their  children^  and  rip  up 
their  women  with  child.  And  Hazael  f aid,  But  what,  is  thyfer- 
vant  a  dog,  that  he  JIjouUI  do  this  great  thing?  And  Elifnaan/wer- 
ed,  the  Lord  hath  fnewed  me  that  thoujludt  be  kirg  ever  Syria. 

IN  the  days  of  Jora  m  king  of  Ifrael  flouriflied  the  prophet  Eliflia. 
His  character  was  fo  eminent,  and  his  fame  fo  widely  fpread, 
that  Benhadad  thekiiig  of  Syria,  through  an  idolater,  fent  to  con- 
I'ult  him  concerning  the  iffus  of  a  diftemper  which  threatened 
his  life.  The  meiTenger  employed  on  this  occafion  was  Hazael, 
who  appears  to  have  been  one  of  the  princes,  or  chief  men  of  the 
Syrian  court.  Charged  with  rich  gifts  from  the  king,  he  prefects 
himfelf  before  tlie  prophet ;  and  accofls  him  in  terms  of  the 
higheft  refpefl.  During  the  conference  which  they  held  together, 
Eliilia  fixed  his  eye  ftedfaflly  on  the  countenance  of  Hazael ;  and 
diicerning,  by  a  prophetic  fpirit,  his  future  tyranny  and  cruelty,  he 
could  not  contain  himfelf  from  burning  into  a  flood  of  tears.  When 
Hazael,  in  furpi-ife,  inquired  into  the  caufe  of  thisfudden  emotion, 
the  prophet  plainly  informs  him  of  the  crimes  and  barbarities 
which  he  forefaw  that  hereafter  he  fliould  commit.  The  foul  of 
Hazael  abhorred,  at  this  time,  the  thoughts  o'i  cruelty.  Uncor- 
rupted,  as  yet,  by  ambition  or  greatnefs,  his  indignation  arofeat 
being  thought  capable  of  fuch  favnge  adlions  as  the  prophet  had 
mentioned  ;  and,  with  much  warmth,  he  replies,  But  what,  is  thy 
fervant  a  dog,  that  he  JJrjuld  do  this  great  thing  ?  EliOia  makes  no 

return 


On  the  CharaSfer  of  Hazael.  87 

return  but  to  point  out  a  remirkable  chanj^e  which  was  to  lake 
place  in  his  condition  ;  The  Lord  hath  /hewed  me  that  thou  Jhalt  he 
king  over  Syria.  In  coarfe  of  time,  all  that  had  been  predicted 
came  to  pafs.  Hazael  afcended  the  throne  ;  and  ambition  took 
polTefTion  of  his  heart.  He  fmote  the  children  of  Ifrael  in  all  their 
coajis.  He  opprejfed  them  during  all  the  reign  of  King  Jehoahaz;* 
and,  from  what  is  left  on  record  of  his  actions,  plainly  appears  to 
have  proved  what  the  prophet  fore  fa  vv  him  to  be,  a  man  of  vio- 
lence, cruelty  and  blood. 

In  this  pail  age  of  hiitory,  an  obje£l  is  prefented  which  deferves 
our  ferious  attention.  We  behold  a  man  who,  in  one  ftate  of 
life,  could  not  look  upon  certain  criaies  without  furprife  and  hor- 
rour  ;  who  knew  fo  little  of  himfelf,  as  to  believe  it  impolTible  for 
him  ever  to  be  concerned  in  committing  them ;  that  fame  man, 
by  a  change  of  condition,  transformed  in  all  his  fentiments,  and 
as  he  rofe  in  greatnpfs  rifing  alfo  in  guilt ;  till  at  laft  he  complet- 
ed that  whole  character  of  iniquity  which  he  once  detefled.  Hence 
the  following  obfervations  naturally  arife.  I.  That  to  a  mind 
not  entirely  corrrupted,  fentiments  of  abhorrence  at  guilt  are  na- 
tural. II.  That,  notwithftanding  thofe  fentiments,  the  mind 
may  be  brought  under  the  dominion  of-  the  vices  which  it  had  moft 
abhorred.  III.  That  this  unhappy  revolution  is  frequently  owing 
to  a  chano-e  of  men's  external  circumftances  and  condition  in  the 
world.  Thefe  obfervations  are  to  make  the  fubjefl  of  thf  prefent 
dilcourfe  ;  and  will  lead  us  to  fuch  a  view  of  human  nature,  as,  it 
is  hoped,  may  be  of  general  ufe. 

I,  Sentiments  of  abhorrence  at  guilt  are  natural  to  the  hu- 
man mind,  Hazael's  reply  to  the  Prophet  fliews  how  ftrongly  he 
felt  them.  Is  thy  fervant  a  dog^  that  he  Jhould  do  this  great  thing  P 
Is  he,  or  can  he  ever  be,  fo  bafe  and  wretched  as  to  perpetrate 
crimes  which  would  render  him  unworthy  of  bearing  the  name  of 
a  man  ?  This  is  the  voice  of  hur.-nan  nature,  while  it  is  not  as  yet 
hardened  in  iniquity.  Some  vices  are  indeed  more  odious  to  the 
mind  than  others.  Providence  has  wifely  pointed  the  (harpeft 
edge  of  this  natural  averfion  againft  the  crimes  which  are  of  moft 
pernicious  and  deltrudtive  nature ;  fuch  as  treachery,  oppreflion, 

and 
*   2  King^f  xiii.  22.  * 


•S8  Oil  the  Chameier 

and  cruelty.  But,  in  general,  the  diftindion  between  moral  good 
and  evil  is  fo  (Irongly  marked,  as  to  flamp  almoft  every  vice  with 
the  chara<Sl:er  of  lurpiiiide.  Prelent  to  any  man,  even  the  mofl: 
ir^norant  and  untutored,  an  obvious  inftance  of  injnftice,  falfe- 
!iood,or  knpiety  ;  let  him  view  it  in  a  cool  moment,  when  no  paf- 
Tion  blinds,  and  no  intere(t  warps  him  ;  and  you  will  find  that 
liis  mind  immediately  revolts  againft:  it,  as  fhameful  and  bafe,  nay, 
as  deferving  puniflmient.  Hence,  in  reafoning  on  the  characters 
of  others,  however  men  may  midake  ;is  to  facts,  yet  they  general- 
ly praife  and  blame  according  to  the  principles  of  found  morality. 
With  refpecl  to  their  own  charader,  a  notorious  partiality  too 
generally  mifleads  their  judgment.  But  it  is  remarkable,  that  no 
ilnner  ever  avows  direftly  to  hiinfelf,  that  he  has  been  guilty  of 
grofs  and  downright  iniquity.  Even  when  engaged  by  his  pafii- 
ons  io  the  commifllon  of  the  greateft  crimes,  he  always  palliates 
them  to  his  own  mind  by  fome  extenuation  or  apology,  fome  pre- 
tended neceiTityjOi'fome  borrowed  colour  of  innocence.  Such  pow- 
erthe  undeniable  dignity  of  virtu?,and  the  acknowledged  turpirude 
of  vice,  pclTei's  over  every  human  heart.  1  hefe  fentiments  are 
the  remaining  inspreflions  of  that  law,  which  was  originally  writ, 
ten  on  the  mind  of  man.  They  are  gleams  of  that  light  which 
once  flione  clear  and  ftrong  within  us  ;  and  which,  though  it  be 
now  greatly  obfcured,  yet  continues  to  flioot  a  feeble  ray  athwart 
the  darknefs  of  human  nature. — But  whatever  fentiments  of  ab- 
horrence at  vice  we  may  at  any  time  entertain,  we  have  no  rea- 
fon  to  build  upon  thefe  a  prefumptuous  conh'dence  of  our  conti- 
nuance in  virtue.  For  the  next  inftruclton  which  the  text  fug- 
gefts,  if, 

II.  That  fuch  is  man^s  ignorance  of  his  own  character,  fuch  the 
frailty  of  his  nature,  that  he  may  one  day  become  infamous  for 
thofe  very  crimes  which  at  prefent  he  holds  in  deteftation.  This 
obfervation  is  too  well  verified  by  the  hiitory  of  Hazael ;  and  a 
thoufand  other  inllances  might  be  brought  to  confirm  it.  Though 
there  is  nothing  which  every  perfon  ought  to  know  fo  thoroughly 
as  his  own  heart,  yet  from  the  conduct  of  men  it  appears,  that  there 
is  nothing  with  which  they  are  lefs  acquainted.  Always  more 
prone  to  fhtter  themfelves,  than  defirous  to  difcover  the  truth, 

they 


of  JazacL  8t? 

fhcy  trufi  to  their  being  poirefTed  of  every  virtue  which  has  noc 
been  put  to  the  trial;  and  reckon  themlelves  fecure  againft  every 
vice  to  which  they  have  not  hitherto  been  tempted.  As  long  aa 
their  duty  hangs  in  fpeculation,  it  appears  fo  plain,  and  lb  eligible, 
that  they  cannot  doubt  of  performing  it.  The  fufpic  ion  never  enter* 
their  mind,  that  in  the  hour  of  fpeculation,  and  in  the  hour  of  prac- 
tice, their  fentiments  may  differ  %»idely.  Their  prefent  difpofi- 
tion  they  eafily  perfuade  thenifelves  will  ever  continue  the  fame; 
and  yet  that  difpofiiion  is  changing  with  circumftanccs  every  mo- 
ment. 

The  man  who  glows  with  the  warm  feelings  of  devotion,  ima- 
gines it  impoiTible  for  him  to  loofe  that  fenfe  of  the  divine  good- 
nefs  which  at  prefent  melts  his  heart.  He  whom  his  friend  ha^ 
lately  faved  from  ruin,  is  confident  that,  if  fome  trying  immcrgency 
fliall  put  his  gratitude  to  proof,  he  will  rather  die  than  abandon 
his  benefa^ior.  He  who  lives  happy  and  contented  in  frugal  in^ 
duftry,  wonders  how  any  man  can  give  himfelf  up  to  difiblutc 
pleafure.  Were  any  of  thofe  perfons  informed  by  a  fuperior 
fpirit  that  the  time  was  fliortly  to  come  when  the  one  fhculd  prove 
an  example  6f  fcandalous  impiety,  the  other  of  treachery  to  his 
friend,  and  the  third  of-  all  that  extravagant  luxury  which  difgrac- 
6s  a  growing  fortune  j  each  of  them  would  teltify  as  much  fur- 
prife  and  abhorrence  as  Hazae!  did,  upon  hearing  the  predictions 
of  the  prophet.  Sincere  they  might  very  pofhbly  be  in  their  ex- 
prelTions  of  indignation  ;  for  hypocrify  is  not  always  to  be  charg- 
ed on  men  whofe  conduct  is  incunfiiient.  Hazael  was  in  earned, 
when  he  refented  with  fuch  ardour  the  imputation  of  cruelty.  The 
Apof^le  Peter  was  fincere  when  he  made  the  zealous  profefTion^ 
that  though  he  (hould  go  to  prifon  and  to  death  with  his  matter^ 
he  would  never  deny  him.  They  were  fincere;  that  is,  they 
fpoke  from  the  fulnefs  of  their  hearts  and  from  the  warmth  of  the 
prefent  moment ;  but  they  did  not  know  themfelves,  as  the  events 
which  followed  plainly  fliowed.  So  falfe  to  its  principles,  too  frc^ 
quently,  is  the  heart  of  man ;  fo  weak  is  the  foundation  of  human 
virtue ;  fo  much  reafon  there  is  for  what  the  gofpel  perpetually 
inculcates  concerning  the  neceflity  of  diftrufting  ourfelves,  and 
depending  on  divine  aid.  Mortifying,  I  confefs,  is  this  view  of 
human  nature ;  yet  proper  to  be  attended  to  by  all,  in  order  to 

elcapc 


^o  On  the  Charader 

efcape  the  moO:  fatal  dangers.  For,  merely  through  unguarded 
conduct,  and  from  the  want  of  this  prudent  fufpicion  of  their  own 
weaknefs,  how  many,  after  the  luoft  promifmg  beginnings,  have 
gradually  apoftatized  from  every  principle  of  virtue  :  until,  at  laft, 
it  has  become  as  difficult  for  one  to  believe,  that  thty  ever  had  a- 
iiy  love  of  gcodnefs,  as  it  would  have  been  once  to  haveperfuad- 
ed  themfelves  that  they  were  to  advauce  to  luch  a  height  in 
wicked nefs  ? 

In  fnch  cafes  as  I  have  defcribed,  what  has  become,  it  may  be 
enquired,  of  thofe  fentiments  of  abhorrence  at  guilt  which  were 
once  felt  fo  ftrongly  ?  Are  they  totally  erafed  \  or,  if  in  any  de- 
gree they  remain,  how  do  fuch  perfons  contrive  to  fatisfy  them- 
felves in  adinga  part  which  their  minds  condemn  ? — Here,  there 
is  a  myftery  of  iniquity  which  requires  to  be  unfolded.  Latent  and 
fecret  is  the  progrefs  of  corruption  within  the  foul ;  and  the  mere 
latent,  the  njore  dangerous  is  its  growth.  No  man  becomes  of  a 
fudden  conipletely  wicked.  Guilt  never  fhows  its  whole  deformi- 
ty at  once  ;  but  by  gradual  acquaintance  reconciles  us  to  its  appear- 
ance, and  imperceptibly  difilifes  its  poifon  through  all  the  powers 
of  the  mind.  Every  man  has  fome  darling  paflion,  which  gene- 
rally affords  the  firft  inirodudion  to  vice.  The  irregular  grati- 
fications into  which  it  occafionally  feduces  him,  appear  under  the 
form  of  venial  weaknefies ;  and  are  indulged  in  the  beginning, 
with  fcrupuloufnefs  and  referve.  But,  by  longer  pra6tice,  thefe 
reftraints  weaken,  and  the  power  of  habit  grows.  One  vice 
brings  in  another  to  its  aid.  By  a  fort  of  natural  affinity  they 
conned  and  entwine  themfelves  together  ;  till  their  roots  come  to 
be  fpread  wide  and  deep  over  all  the  foul.  When  guilt  rifes  to 
be  glaring,  confcience  endeavours  to  remonflrate.  But  confcience 
is  a  calm  principle.  Paffion  is  loud  and  impetuous;  and  creates  a 
tumult  which  drowns  the  voice  of  reaibn.  It  joins,  belides,  arti- 
fice to  violence  ;  and  feduces  at  the  fame  time  that  it  impels.  For 
it  employs  the  underftanding  to  impofe  upon  the  confcience.  It 
devifes  reafons  and  arguments  to  juftify  the  corruptions  of  the 
heart.  The  common  pradice  of  the  world  is  appealed  to.  Nice 
diflinctions  are  n:ade.  NIcn  are  found  tobe  circumflanced  in  fo  pe- 
culiar a  manner,  as  to  render  certain  anions  cxcufable,  if  not 

blanieiefs, 


o/  llazach  91 

blamelcTs,  which,  in  another  fituation,  it  is  conftfieJ,  would 
have  been  criminal.  By  fuch  a  proccfs  as  this,  ihcre  isreafonto 
believe,  that  a  great  part  cf  mankind  advance  troni  (tep  to  f!:ep 
in  (in,  partly  hurried  by  padion,  ar.d  pardy  blinded  by  felf.deceit, 
without  anyjnft-  fenfe  oi"  the  degree  of  guilt  which  they  contract. 
By  inveterate  habits,  their  judgment  is,  at  length,  perverted, 
and  their  moral  feelings  are  deadened.  They  fee  now  with  odier 
eyes ;  and  can  look  without  pain  on  evil  actions  which  they  for- 
merly abhorred. 

It  is  proper,  however,  to  obferve,  that  though  cur  native 
fentiments  of  abhorrence  at  guilt  may  be  fo  borne  down,  or  fo 
eluded,  as  to  lofe  their  influence  on  conduct,  yetth©fe  fentiments 
belonging  originally  to  our  frame,  and  being  never  totally  eradi- 
cated from  the  foul,  will  flill  retain  fo  much  authority,  as  if  noc 
to  reform,  at  leaft,  on  fome  occafions,  to  chaften  thefinncr.  It 
is  only  during  a  ccurfe  of  profperity,  that  vice  is  able  to  carry  on 
its  dulufions  without  difturbance.  But  amidfl  the  dark  and 
thoughtful  fituations  of  life,  confcicnce  regains  its  rights;  and 
pours  the  whole  bittcrnefs  of  remorfe  on  his  heart,  who  has  apofta- 
tized  from  his  original  principles.  We  may  well  believe  that,  be- 
fore the  end  of  his  days,  HazaePs  fird  imprellions  wculd  be  made 
to  return.  In  the  hour  of  adverfity,  the  remembrance  of  his 
conference  with  the  venerable  Prophet  would  fting  his  heart. 
Comparing  the  fentiments  which,  in  thofe  his  bitter  days,  he  felt 
with  the  atrocious  cruelties  which  he  had  afterwards  committed, 
all  the  honours  of  royalty  would  be  unable  to fave  him  from  the  in- 
ward fenfe  of  bafenefs  and  infamy. 

From  this  view  which  has  been  exhibited  of  the  prcgrefs  of 
corruption,  and  of  the  danger  to  which  we  are  expofed,  of  fall- 
ing from  principles  which  once  appeared  firmly  ellablilhed,  let  us 
receive  ufeful  admonition  for  our  own  conduci:.  Ld  not  him  th^J 
glrdeth  on  his  harnefs^  hoajl  like  him  that  putteth  it  off.  Let  no  mar^ 
place  a  rafli  and  dangerous  confidence  in  his  virtue.  But  let  kim 
that  thinkcth  he  ftandcih,  take  he^.d  left  he  fall.  Never  adventure 
on  too  near  an  approach  to  what  is  evil.  Familiarize  not  your- 
felves  v/uh  it,  in  the  fi'iglitcfl:  inftances,  without  fear.  Lillen 
with  reverence  to  ^'>fzr^  reprchenfion  of  cor.fcience  ;  and    pre- 

L  ferve 


gs  On  the  CharaSer 

ierve  the  moft  quick  and  accurate  fenfibillt)'  to  right  and  wrong. 
If  ever  your  moral  impreiTions  begin  to  decay,  and  your  natu- 
ral abhorrence  of  guilt  to  leiTen,  you  have  ground  to  dread  that 
the  ruin  of  virtue  is  fall  approaching.  While  you  employ  all 
the  circumfpedion  and  vigilance  which  reafon  can  fugged,  let 
your  prayers,  at  the  fame  time,  continually  alcend  to  God  for 
ilipport  and  aid.  Remember  that  from  him  defcendeth  every  good 
and perfe^ gift ;  and  that  to  him  only  it  belongs  to  keep  ycu  jroin 
j billing,  and  to  prejent  you  fault  le/s  before  the  prefence  0/  his  glory 
with  exceeding  joy »     I  proceed  nov;  to  the 

III.  Observation  from  the  text.  That  the  power  which 
corruption  acquires  to  pervert  the  ongrnal  principles  of  man,  is 
tVequently  owing  to  a  change  of  their  circumflances  and  condition 
in  the  world.  How  different  was  Hazael,  the  mellenger  of  Ben- 
hadad,  from  Hazael  the  king  ;  he,  who  ftarted  at  the  mention 
of  cruelty,  from  him  who  waded  in  blood  !  Of  this  fad  and  fur- 
prifing  revolution,  the  Prophet  emphatically  afligns  the  caufe,  in 
thefe  few  words  ;  The  Lord  hath  Jhewed  me  that  thou  fhalt  he 
king  over  Syria.  That  crown,  that  fatal  crown,  which  is  to  be 
let  upon  thy  head,  fhall  (lied  a  malignant  influence  over  thy  na- 
ture ;  and  fhall  produce  tha^t  change  in  thy  character,   which  now 

thou  canft  not  believe, Whofe  experience  of  the  world  is  fo 

narrow,  as  not  to  furnilh  him  w  ith  inftances  fimilar  to  this,  in 
much  humbler  conditions  of  life  ?  So  great  is  the  influence  of  a 
new  fituation  of  external  fortune  ;  fuch  a  different  turn  it  gives 
to  our  temper  and  affections,  to  our  views  and  defireSy  that  no 
man  can  foretel  what  his  character  would  prove,  fhould  Provi- 
dence either  raife  or  deprefs  his  circumflances  in  a  remarkable 
degree,  or  throw  him  into  fome  fphere  of  aftion  widely  different 
from  that  to  which  he  has  been  aceudomed  in  former  life. 

The  feeds  of  various  qualities,  good  and  bad,  lie  in  all  our 
hearts.  But  until  proper  occafions  ripen  and  bring  them  forward, 
they  lie  there  inadlive  and  dead.  They  are  covered  up  and  con- 
cealed within  the  receffes  of  our  nature  :  or,  if  they  fpringup  at 
all,  it  is  under  fuch  an  appearance  as  is  frequently  miflaken,  even 
by  ourfelves.  Pride,  for  inflance,  in  ceitain  fituations,  has  no 
opportunity  of  difplaying  itfelf,  but  as  magnanimity,  or  fenfe  of 

honour, 


of  Bazael,  (yj 

honour.  Avarice  appears  as  necelTary  and  laudable  economy. 
What  in  one  llation  of  life  would  difcover  itielf  to  be  cowardice 
and  bafenefs  of  mind,  pafles  in  another  for  prudent  circumfpec- 
tion.  What  in  the  fulnefs  of  power  would  prove  to  be  cruelty 
and  opprefTion,  is  reputed,  in  a  fubordinate  rank,  no  more  than  the 
exercife  of  proper  difcipline.  For  a  while,  the  man  is  known 
neither  by  the  world  nor  by  himfelf,  to  be  what  he  truly  is. 
But  bring  him  into  a  new  fiiuation  of  life,  which  accords  with  his 
predominant  difpofition  ;  which  ftrikes  on  certain  latent  qualities 
of  his  foul,  and  awakens  them  into  aftion  ;  and  as  the  leaves  of 
a  flower  gradually  unfold  to  the  fun,  fo  fhall  all  his  true  charac- 
ter open  full  to  view. 

This  may,  in  one  light^  be  accounted  not  fo  much  an  altera- 
tion of  character  produced  by  a  change  of  circumftances,  asadifco- 
very  brought  forth  of  the  real  charader,  which  formerly  lay  con- 
cealed. Yet,  at  the  fame  time,  it  is  true  that  the  man  himfelf 
undergoes  a  change.  For  opportunity  being  given  tor  certain 
difpofitions,  which  had  been  dormant,  to  exert  themfelves  with- 
out rellnnint,  they  of  courfe  gather  ftrength.  By  means  of  x.h% 
afcendency  which  they  gain,  other  parts  of  the  temper  are  borne 
down  ;  and  thus  an  alteration  is  made  in  the  whole  ftrudure  and 
fyftem  of  the  foul.  He  is  a  truly  wife  and  good  man  who,  through 
divine  alhilance,  remains  fuperiour  to  this  influence  of  fortune 
on  his  charader  ;  who  having  once  imbibed  worthy  fentiments^ 
and  eftablilhed  proper  principles  of  adion,  continues  conftant  to 
thefe,  whatever  his  circumftances  be  ;  maintahis,  throughout  all 
the  changes  of  his  life,  one  uniform  and  fupported  tenour  of 
condufl  ;  and  what  he  abhorred  as  evil  and  wicked  in  the  begin- 
ning of  his  days,  continues  to  abhor  to  the  end.  But  how  rare 
is  it  to  meet  with  this  honourable  confiftency  among  men,  while 
they  are  paffing  through  the  different  ftations  and  periods  of  life  ! 
When  they  are  fetting  out  in  the  world,  before  their  minds  have 
been  greatly  mifled  or  debafed,  they  glow  with  generous  emoti- 
ons, and  look  with  contempt  on  what  is  fordid  and  guilty.  But 
advancing  farther  in  life,  and  inured  by  degrees  to  the  crooked 
ways  of  men  ;  prefilng  through  the  crowd,  and  the  buftle  of  the 
world  ;  obliged  to  contend  with  this  man's  craft,  and  that  man's 
fcorn  ;  accuftomed,  fometimes,  to  conceal  their  fentiments,  and 

often 


94  On  the  Characlcr 

often  to  ftiflc  ihcir  fctlings,  they  becaiiient  lafl  hardened  in  heart, 
and  farijiliar  with  corruption,  Who  wculd  not  drop  a  tear  over 
this  lad,  but  frequent  fall  of  human  probity  and  honour?  Who 
is  not  hn  iibled,  wh.en  he  beholds  the  refined  Jeniin-ents  and  high 
principles  on  wliiuh  we  are  {^i  ready  to  value  ourfelves,  brought 
to  faeh  a  {hameful  idde ;  and  man,  with  all  his  boafted  attain- 
nients  of  reau;;],  difcovered  lo  often  lo  be  the  creature  of  his  ex- 
ternal fortune,   moulded  and  formed  by  the  incidents  of  his  life  ? 

TKzinuance  of  ITazael's  degeneracy  leads  us  to  refle(5l,  in  par- 
ticular, on  the  dangers  which  arife  from   ftations  of  power  and 
greatnefs  ;   efpecial'y  when  the  elevation  of  men  to  thefe  has  been 
rapid  and  fudden.     Few  have  the  flrength  of  mind  v  hich  is  re- 
quifire  for  bearing  fuch  a  change  with   temperance  and  felf-com- 
mand.     The  refpect   whi::h  is  paid  to  the  great,  and   the  fcope 
which  their  condition  affords  for  the  indulgence  of  pleafure,  are  pe- 
rilous circu.nlhinccs  to  virtue.     When  men  live  among  their  equals, 
and  are  accuiromed  to  encounter  the  hardihips  of  Jife,  they  are 
6f  courfe  reminded   of  their    mutual    dependence  on  each  other, 
and  of  the   dependence   of  all  upon    God.     But  when  they   are 
highly  exalted  above  their  fellows,  they  meet  with  few  objecfs  to 
awaken   ferious  reflection,    but  with  many  to  feed  and   inflame 
their  pafflons.     They  are  apt  to  lep^irare  ihcir  intereff  from  that 
of  all  around  them  ;  to  wrap  ilienjfelves  up  in   their  vain   gran- 
deur ;  and  in  the  ]ap  of  indolence  aixl  felfiQi  pleafure,  to  acquire 
a  cold  indifference  to  the  concerns  even  of  ihofe  v.'ho:n  they  call 
their  friends.     The  fancied   independence   into  v. hich   they   are 
lifted  up,  is  adverfe  ro  fentimenta  of  piety,  as  v/ell  as  of  humani- 
ty,  in  th.eir  heart.      Tuk'wg  the  twibrel  and  the  harp,  atul  rejoich^g 
at  the  found  of  the  organy  they  fay   unto  Cod,  Depart  from  us,  for 
we  dejire  not  the  knoibiedge  of  thy  ways.     What  is  the  Jhmghty  that 
wefuoiddjerve  him  r"  or  what  prcft  fjou/d  we  have,  if  we  pray  un- 
to him  ? 

But  we  are  not  to  imagine,  that  elevated  Nations  in  the  world 
furnifli  the  only  formidable  trials  to  which  our  virtue  is  expofed. 
It  will  hi  found,  that  we  are  liable  to  no  fewer  nor  lefs  dargercus 
temptations,  iVom  the  oppofite  extreme  of  poverty  and  depreflion. 
When  men  who  have  known  better  days  are  thrcv.'n  down  i;^^ 

abjed 


of  HazaeU  p^ 

abjecl  fituations  of  fortune,  their  fpirits  are  broken  and  their  tem- 
per foured.  Envy  rankles  in  their  bread  at  fuch  as  are  more  fuccefs- 
i'ul.  The  providence  of  Heaven  is  accufed  in  fecret  murmurs ;  and 
the  fenfe  of  mifery  is  ready  to  pufli  them  into  atrocious  crimes, 
in  order  to  better  their  ftate.  Among  the  inferiour  tlafles  of 
mankind,  craft  and  diflionelly  are  too  often  found  to  prevail. 
Low  and  penurious  circun:iftances  dcprefs  the  human  powers.  Tliey 
deprive  men  of  the  proper  means  of  knowledge  and  improvement; 
and  where  ignorance  is  grofs,  it  is  always  in  hazard  of  engender- 
ing profligacy. 

Hence  it  has  been,  generally,  the  opinion  of  wife  men  in  all 
ages,  that  there  is  a  certain  middle  condition  of  life,  equally  re- 
mote from  either  of  thofe  extremes  of  fortune,  which,  though  it 
want  not  alfo  its  own  dangers,  yet  is,  on  the  whole,  the  ftatc 
moft  favourable  boih  to  virtue  and  to  happinefs.  For  there,  lux- 
ury and  pride  on  the  one  hand,  have  not  opportunity  to  enervate 
or  intoxicate  the  mind,  nor  want  and  dependence  on  the  other,  to 
fink  and  debafe  it;  there,  all  the  native  affe^lious  of  the  foul 
have  the  freed  and  faired  exercife,  the  equality  of  men  is  felt, 
friendiliips  are  formed,  and  improvements  of  every  fort  arc  pur- 
fued  with  mod  fuccefs  ;  there,  men  are  prompted  to  indudry  with- 
out being  overcome  by  toil,  and  their  powers  called  forth  into 
exertion,  without  being  either  fuperfededby  too  much  abundance, 
or  baffled  by  infuperable  difficulties;  there,  a  mixture  of  comforts 
and  of  wants,  ar  once  awakens  their  gratitude  to  God,  and  reminds 
them  of  their  dependence  on  his  aid  ;  and  therefore,  in  this  date, 
men  feem  to  enjoy  life  to  mod  advantage,  and  to  be  lead  expof- 
ed  to  the  fnares  of  vice.  Such  a  condition  is  recorded  in  the  book 
of  Proverbs,  to  have  been  the  wilh  and  choice  of  one  who  was 
eminent  for  wifdom.  Retnove  far  from  me  vanity  and  lies.  Give 
me  neither  poverty  nor  riches.  Feed  me  with  food  convenient  for 
me.  Left  1  be  full  and  deny  Thee^  atidfay,  Who  is  the  Lord P  or  leji 
1  he  pryr  and  Jleal,  and  take  the  name  of  my  God  in  vain^^ 

From  the  whole  view  which  we  have  now  taken  of  the  fub- 
ject,  wemny,  in  the  fird  place,  learn  the  rcafons  for  which  a  va- 
riety 

*  Prov,  XXX.  n,  9. 


Ip!)  On  the  Charcid}dr 

riety  of  conditions-and  ranks  was  eftablifhed  by  Providence  among 
Tnankind.  This  life  is  obvioudy  intended  to  be  a  iUte  of  pro- 
bation and  trial.  No  trial  ot  characters  is  requifite  with  refpe6t 
to  God,  who  fees  what  is  in  every  heart,  and  perfedly  knows 
\vhat  part  each  man  would  a(fl,  in  all  thepoflible  fituations  of  for- 
tune. But  on  account  of  men  themfelves,  and  of  the  world  a- 
-round  them,  it  was  neceflary  that  trial  fhould  take  place,  and  a 
difcrimination  of  chara(5^ers  be  made;  in  order  that  true  virtue 
might  be  feparated  from  falfe  appearances  of  it,  and  the  juftice  of 
Heaven  be  difplayed  in  its  final  retributions;  in  order  that  the 
failings  of  men  niight  be  fo  difcovered  to  themfelves,  as  to  afford 
them  proper  inftruction,  and  promote  their  amendment ;  and  in 
order  that  their  charaders  might  be  fhovvn  to  the  world  in  every 
point  of  view,  which  could  iurniHi  either  examples  for  imita- 
tion, or  admonitions  of  danger.  The  accoirplifliment  of  thefe 
important  purpofes  required,  that  human  life  fhould  not  always 
proceed  in  one  tenour  ;  but  that  it  Ihould  both  be  chequered 
with  many  revolutions,  and  diverOfied  by  a  variety  of  employ- 
ments and  ranks  ;  in  pafTmg  through  wliich  the  touchfione  might 
be  applied  to  the  chara<51ers  of  men,  and  their  hidden  virtues  or 
vices  explored .  Kazael  might  have  appeared  in  hiflory  with  a 
-degree  of  reputation  to  which  he  was  not  entitled,  had  he  conti- 
nued to  acl  in  a  fubordinate  Uation.  At  bottom,  he  was  falfe  and 
imfound.  When  raifed  higher  in  life,  the  corruption  of  his  heart 
difcovered  itfelf ;  and  he  is  now  held  forth  with  deferved  infamy, 
us  a  wai*nii)g  to  fucceedinga.ges. 

In  the  fecond  place  we  le^xn,  from  what  has  been  faid,  the  im- 
portance of  attending,  with  the  utmofl  care,  to  the  choice  which 
we  make  of  our  employment  and  condition  in  life.  It  has  been 
ihown,  that  ^ir  external  fitUriiion  frequently  operates  powerfully 
on  our  moral  character ;  and  by  confequence  that  it  is  itriclly  con- 
nefled,  not  only  with  our  temporal  welfare,  but  with  our  ever- 
lafting  happinefs  or  mifery.  He  who  might  have  palled  unblam- 
ed,  and  upright,  through  certain  walks  of  life, by  unhappily  choof- 
ing  a  road  where  he  meets  with  temptations  too  ftrong  for  his 
virtue,  precipitates  himfelf  into  fliame  here,  and  into  endlefs  ruin 
hereafter.  Yet  how  often  is  the  determination  of  this  mod  im- 
portant 


of  HazaeL  o^ 

pGftant  article  left  to  the  chance  of  accidental  connexions,   or  fub^ 
mitted  to  the  option  of  youthful  fancy  and  humour?  When  it  is 
made  the  fubjed  of  ferious  deliberation,  how  feldom  have  they,  oiv 
whom  the  decilion  of  it  depends,  any  furtlier  view  than  {o  to  i\\{' 
pofe  of  one  who  is  coming  out  into  life,  as  that  he  may  the  fooncft 
become  rich,  or,  as  it  is  exprefied,  make  his  way  to  raoft  advan- 
tage in  the  world?  Are  there  no  other  objeds  than  this  to  be  at- 
tended to,  in  fixing  the  plan  of  life  ?  Are  there  no  more  facred 
and   important  interefts  which  deferve  to  be  confnlted  ? — You 
would  not  willingly  place  one  whofe  welfare  you  fludied,  in  a  fitu- 
ation  for  which  you  were  convinced  that  his  abilities  were  unequal* 
Thefe,  therefore,  you  examine  with  care ;.  and  on  then)  you  reff 
the  ground  of  your  decifion.     Be  perfuaded  that  not  abilities  mere- 
ly, but  the  turn  of  the  temper  and  the  heart,  require  to  be  exa- 
mined with  equal  attention,  in  forming  the  plan  of  future  eda- 
blilhment.     Every  one  has  fome  peculiar  weaknefs,  fome  predo- 
minant paflion,  which  expofes  him  to  temptations  of  one  kind 
more  than  of  another.     Early  this  may  be  difcerned  to  fhoot ;. 
and  from  its  firft  rifings  its  future  growth  may  be  inferred.     An- 
ticipate its  progrefs.     Confider  how  it  is  likely  to  be  affeeled  by 
fucceeding  occurrences  in  life.     If  you  bring  one  whom  you  are 
rearing  up  into  a  fituation  where  ail  the  furrounding  circumftances 
fhall  cherifh  and  mature  this  fatal  principle  in  his  nature,  you.  be- 
come, in  a  great  meafure,  anfwerable  for  the  confeqjiiences  that 
follow.     In  vain  you  truft  to  his  abilities  and  powers.     Vice  and 
corruption,  when  they  have  tainted  the  heart,  are  fufiicient  to 
overfet  the  greateft  abilities.     Nay,  too  frequently  they  turn  then^ 
againft  the  poflellbr ;  and  render  them  the  inftruments  of  hiw 
more  fpeedy  ruin. 

In  the  third  place,  we  learn  from  the  hiflory  wliich  has  beer> 
llluftrated,  never  to  judge  of  true  happinefs,  merely  from  the  de- 
gree of  men^s  advancement  in  the  world.  Always  betrayed  by? 
appearances,  the  multitude  are  caught  by  nothing  fo  much  as  by 
the  fnow  and  pomp  of  life.  They  think  every  one  bleft,  who  is 
raifed  far  above  others  in  rank.  From  their  earlieft  years  they 
are  taught  to  fix  their  views  upon  worldly  elevation,  as  the  nhi^ 
mate,   obfedt  of  their  ai-m?  •  and  of  all  the  fources  of  errouf  i^ 

cpndu^lj^ 


9^  On  the  Charadlef 

tonduft,  this  is  the  mufl:  general. — Hazael,  on  the  throne  of  Syria, 
would,  duubileis,  be  more  envied,  and  efteemed  by  the  multitude 
a  far  happier  man  than,  when  yet  a  fubjed:,  he  was  employed  by 
Benhadad  to  carry  his  meiTage  to  Elilha.  Yet,  O  Hazael !  how 
much  better  had  it  been  for  thee  never  to  have  known  the  name 
or  honour  of  a  king,  than  to  have  purchafed  it  at  the  expence  of 
fo  much  guilt ;  forfeiting  thy  iirii  and  beft  character  ;  rufliing  into 
crimes  which  were  once  thine  abhorrence;  and  becoming  a  traitor 
to  the  native  fentiments  and  dictates  of  thy  heart!  How  fatal  to 
thy  repofe  proved  that  coveted  purple,  which  was  drenched  by 
thee  in  fo  much  innocent  blood!  How  much  more  cheerful  vere 
thy  days,  and  how  much  calmer  thy  nights,  in  the  former  peri- 
ods of  thy  life,  than  when,  placed  on  a  throne,  thy  ears  were 
invaded  by  day  with  the  cries  of  the  miferable  whom  thou  hadft 
ruined  ;   and    thy  flumbers  broken    by  night  with  the  fhocking 

remembrance  of  thy  cruelties  and  crimes! Never  let  us  judge 

by  the  outfide  of  things ;  nor  conclude  a  man  to  be  happy,  folely 
becaufe  he  is  encompaffed  with  wealth  or  grandeur.  Much 
niifery  often  lurks  where  it  is  little  fufpected  by  the  world.  The 
material  inquiries  refpeding  felicity  are,  not  what  a  man's  ex- 
ternal condition  is,  but  with  what  difpofition  of  mind  he  bears 
it ;  whether  he  be  corrupted  or  improved  by  it ;  whether 
he  conduds  himfelf  fo  as  to  be  acceptable  to  God,  and  approved 
of  by  good  men.  For  thefe  are  the  circumftances  which  make 
the  real  and  important  diftindions  among  the  conditions  of  men. 
The  effeds  of  thefe  are  to  lail  for  ever,  vvhen  all  worldly  diftinc- 
tions  (liall  be  forgotten. 

In  the  fourth  place,  from  all  that  has  been  faid  v.'e  fliould  learn 
never  to  be  immoderately  anxious  about  our  external  fituation, 
but  to  fubmit  our  lot  with  cheerfulnefs  to  the  difpofal  of  Heaven. 
To  make  the  beft  and  moft  pruderit  arrangements  which  v.e  can, 
refpeding  our  condition  m  life,  is  matter  of  high  duty.  But  let  us 
remember  that  all  the  plans  that  \\e  form  are  precarious  and  uncer* 
tain.  After  tlie  utnic>fl  precautions  taken  by  human  wifdom,  no 
man  can  forefee  the  bidder,  dangers  which  m.ay  a^vait  him  in  that 
path  of  life  on  which  he  has  pitched.  Providence  cLufcs  fc^r  us 
nruch  more  wifely,  than  we  can  chufe  for  ourfelves;  and,   from 

circumftances 


</  Hazaet.  ^^ 

€ircumftances  that  appeared  at  firft  moft  unpromifirrg  and  adverfe, 
often  brings  forth  in  the  iiTue  both  temporal  and  Ipiritual  felicity. 
H'''ho  knoweth  what  is  good  or  a  man  in  this  life,  all  the  day  j  of  his  vain 
life,  which  he  fpendeib  as  a  Jhadow  ?  When  we  confider  the  dark- 
nefs  of  our  prelent  flate,  the  imbecility  of  human  nature,  and  rhe 
doubtful  and  ambiguous  value  of  all  that  we  call  profperity,  the 
exhortation  of  the  Plalmift  comes  home  with  great  force  on  every 
reflecting  mind,  Commit  thy  way  unto  the  Lord*  Forjn  thy  mea» 
lures  with  prudence;  but  divert  thyfelf  of  anxiety  about  the  ifTue. 
Inftead  of  feeking  to  order  thine  own  lot,  acquiefce  in  the  ap- 
pointment of  Heaven,  and  follow  without  hefitation  the  call  of 
Providence,  and  of  duty.  In  whatever  fituation  of  life  God  fhall 
place  thee,  look  up  devoutly  to  him  for  grace  and  afTiftance ; 
and  ftudy  to  a6l  the  part  afligned.thee  with  a  faithful  and  upright 
heart.  Thus  (halt  thou  have  peacewithin  thyfelf,  while  thy 
courfe  is  going  on  ;  and  when  it  draws  towards  a  clofe,  with 
fatisfadtion  thou  flialt  review  thy  conduft.  For,  after  all  the 
toils  and  labours  of  life,  and  all  the  vain  ftruggles  which  we  main- 
tain for  pre-eminence  and  diftindtion,  we  Ihall  find,  at  the  conclu- 
fion  of  the  whole  fcene,  that  to  fear  Ced  and  keep  his  command' 
ments  is  the  whole  of  man. 


M  SERMON 

*  Pfalm  xxxvii,  5. 


SERMON      XXVni, 

On    the    Benefits    to   be    derived     from   the 
House  of  Mourning. 

ECCLESIASTES,  vii.    2,   3,    4. 

7/  is  better  to  go  to  the  houfe  of  mournlngy  than  to  go  to  the  houfe  of 
jeajiing  ;  for  that  is  the  end  of  all  men,  and  the  living  will  lay  it 
to  his  heart.  Sorrow  is  better  than  laughter  ;  for  by  the  fadnefs 
of  the  countenance  the  heart  is  made  better.  The  heart  of  the  wife 
is  in  the  houfe  of  mourning  ;  but  the  heart  of  fools  is  in  the  houfe  of 
mirth, 

MANY  of  the  maxims  contained  in  this  book  of  EGclefiaftes 
will  appear  ftrange  fayings  to  the  men  of  the  world.  But 
when  they  refled  on  the  chsracler  of  him  who  delivers  them, 
they  cannot  but  admit  that  his  tenets  deferve  aferiousand  attentive 
examination.  For  they  are  not  the  doclrines  of  a  pedant,  ^Aho,  from 
an  obfcure  retirement,  declaims  againft  pleafures  which  he  never 
knew.  They  are  not  the  invedives  of  a  difappointed  man,  who 
takes  revenge  upon  the  world,  by  fatirifmg  thofe  enjoyments 
which  he  fought  in  vain  to  obtain.  They  are  the  conclufions  of 
a  great  and  profperous  prince,  who  had  once  given  full  fcope  to 
his  defires  ;  who  was  thoroughly  acquainted  with  life  in  its  mod 
flattering  fcenes ;  and  who  now,  reviewing  all  that  he  had  en- 
joyed, delivers  to  us  the  refult  of  long  experience,  and  tried  wif. 
dom.  None  of  his  principles  feem,  at  firfl:  view,  more  dubious 
and  exceptionable  than  thofe  which  the  text  prefents.  To  affert 
that  forrow  is  preferable  to  mirth,  and  the  houfe  of  mourning  to 
the  houfe  of  feafting  ;  to  advife  men  to  chufe  mortification  and 
fadnefs  when  it  is  in  their  power  to  indulge  in  joy,  may  appear 
harfh  and  unrcafon^ble  doctrines.  They  may,  perhaps,  be  ac- 
counted 


On  the  Benefits,  &:c,  loi 

counted  enemies  to  the  innocent  enjoyment  of  life  who  give 
countenance  to  fo  fevere  a  fyftem,  and  thereby  increafethe  glooai 
which  already  fits  fufficiently  heavy  on  the  condition  of  man. 
But  let  this  cenfure  be  fufpended,  until  wc  examine  with  care 
into  the  fpirit  and  meaning  of  the  fentiments  here  delivered. 

It  is  evident  that  the  wife  man  does  not  prefer  forrow,  upon  its 
own  account,  to  mirth;  orreprefent  fadnefs  as  a  ftate  more  eligi- 
ble than  joy.     He  confiders  it  in  the  light  oi  difcipline  only.  He 
views  it  with  reference  to  an  end.     He  compares  it  wuh  certain 
improvements  which  he  fuppofes  it  to  produce  ;  when  the  heart 
is  made  better  by  the  fadnefs  of  the  countenance,  and  the  living  to  lay 
to  heart  what  is  the  end  of  all  men.     Now,  if  great  and  lafting  be- 
nefits are  found  to  refult  from  occafional  fadnefs,  thefe,    fure, 
may  be  capable  of  giving  it  the  preference  to  fome  fleeting  fenfa- 
tions  of  joy.     The  means  which   he  recommends  in  order  to  our 
obtaining  thofe  benefits^  are   to  be  explained  according  to  the 
principles  of  found  reafon  ;  and  to  be  underftood  with  thofe  limi- 
tations which  the  eaftern  ftyle,  in  delivering  moral  precepts,  fre- 
quently requires.     He  bids  us  go  to  the  houfe  of  mourning  ;  but  he 
does  not  command  us  to  dwell  there.     When  he  prefers  forrow 
to  laughter,  he  is  not  to  be  underftood  as  prohibiting  all  mirth  ;  as 
requiring  us  to  wear  a  perpetual  cloud   on  our  brow,  and  to  fe- 
queftrate  ourfelves  from  every  cheerful   entertainment  of  fecial 
life.     Such  an   interpretation  would  be  inconfiftent  with  many 
other  exhortations  in  his  own  writings,  which  recommend  tempe- 
rate and  innocent  joy.    It  would  not  fuit  with  the  proper  dif- 
charge  of  the  duties  which  belong  to  us  as  members  of  fociety  ; 
and  would  be  moft  oppofite  to  the  good nefs  and  benignity  of  our 
Creator.     The  true  fcope  of  his  dodrine  in  this  pafTage  is,   that 
there  is  a  certain    temper    and  ftate  of  heart,    which   is  of  far 
greater  confequence  to  real  happinefs,  than  the  habitual  indulgence 
of  giddy  and  thoughtlefs  mirth  ;  that  for  the  attainment  and  cul- 
tivation of  this  temper,  frequent  returns  of  grave  refledtion  are 
neceflary  ;  that  upon  this  account,  it  is  profitable  to  give  admiifion 
to  thofe  views  of  human  diftrefs  which  tend  to  awaken  fuch  re- 
flexion in  the  mind  ;  and  that   thus,  from  the  viciflTitudes  of  for- 
row, which  we  either   experience  in  our  own  lot,  or  fympathife 
with  in  the  lot  of  others,  much  wifdom  and  improvement  may  be 

derived. 


102  On  the  Benefits   to  be  derived 

derived.  Tbefe  are  the  fentiments  which  I  purpofe  at  prefent  to 
juflify  and  recommend,  as  mod  fuitable  to  the  chara^er  of  men 
and  ofChriftians  ;  and  not  in  the  leaft  inconiiftent  with  pleafure, 
rightly  underftood. 

Among  the  variety  of  difpofitions  which  are  to  be  found  in  the 
vorld,  fome  indeed  require  lefs  of  this  difcipline  than  others. 
There  are  perfons  whofe  tender  and  dehcate  fenfibility,  either  de- 
rived from  nature,  or  brought  on  by  repeated  afflictions,  renders 
them  too  deeply  fufceptible  of  every  mournful  imprefiion ;  whofe 
fpirirs  ftsnd  more  in  need  of  being  fupported  and  cheered,  than 
Oi  being  faddened  by  the  dark  views  of  human  life.  In  fuch 
cafes  we  are  commanded  to  lift  up  the  hands  ivhich  hang  down,  ci7id 
to  confirm  the  feeble  knees.*  But  this  is  far  from  being  the  com- 
mon difpofiiion  of  men.  Their  minds  are  in  general  inclined  to 
levity,  much  more  than  to  thoughtful  melancholy  ;  and  their 
he.irts  more  apt  to  be  contracted  and  hardened,  than  to  relent  with 
too  much  facility.  I  fhall  therefore  endeavour  to  fhew  them, 
vhat  bad  inclinations  their  compliance  with  Solomon's  advice 
would  correct;  what  good  difpofitions  with  refped  to  God,  their 
neighbours,  and  themfelves,  it  would  improve  ;  and  how,  upon 
the  whole,  his  doctrine  is  verified,  that  by  the  fadnefs  of  the  counte- 
nance  the  heart  is  made  better, 

I  BF.GIN  by  obferving,  that  the  temper  recommended  in  the 
text  fuits  the  prelent  conftitution  of  things  in  this  world.  Had 
man  been  deftined  for  a  courfe  of  undifturbed  enjoyment,  perpe- 
tual gaiety  would  then  have  correfponded  to  his  ftate  ,  and  pen- 
fiv^  tnought  have  been  an  unnatural  intrufion.  But  in  a  ftate 
where  all  is  chequered  and  mixed,  where  there  is  no  profperity 
without  a  reverfe,  and  no  joy  without  its  attending  griefs ;  where 
from  the  houfe  of  feifting  all  muft,  at  one  time  or  other,  pafs 
into  the  houfe  of  mourning,  it  would  be  equally  unnatural  if  no 
admiffion  were  given  to  grave  reflection.  The  mind  of  man 
muft  be  attempered  to  his  condition.  Providence,  whofe 
wildom  is  confpicuous  in  all  its  works,  has  adjufted  with  exaCt 
proportion  the  inward  powers  to  the  outward  ftate  of  every 
rational  being.     It  has  for  this  purpofe   implanted  the  ferious 

and 
*  JJaiahy  xxxv.  3.     Heb.   xii.   12. 


from  the  Houfe  of  Mourning.  toy' 

and  fympathetic  feelings  in  our  nature,  that  they  might  corrcf- 
pond  with  the  vicilhtudes  of  forrow  in  our  lot.  He  who  en- 
deavours to  repel  their  influence,  or  toftifle  them  in  unieafonable 
mirth,  adsa  violent  and  unnatural  part.  He  ftrives  with  vain  effort 
againft  the  current  of  things ;  contradids  the  intentions  of  his 
Maker,  and  counterads  the  origmal  impulfes  of  his  own  heart. 
It  is  proper  alfo  to  obferve,  that  as  the  fadnefs  of  the  counte- 
nance  has,  in  our  prefent  fituation,  a  proper  and  natural  place  ; 
fo  it  is  requifite  to  the  true  enjoyment  of  pleafure.  Worldly  and 
fenfual  men  often  remark  not  till  it  be  too  late,  that,  by  the 
ftudied  efforts  of  conftant  repetition,  all  their  pleafures  fail. 
They  draw  them  off  fo  clofe  to  the  dregs,  that  they  become  infi- 
pid  and  naufeous.  Hence  even  In  laughter  their  heart  is  forrowfJ, 
and  the  end  of  their  mirth  is  heavinefs.*  It  is  only  the  interpofal 
of  ferious  and  thoughtful  hours,  that  can  give  any  lively  fenfation 
to  the  returns  of  joy.  I  fpeak  not  of  thofe  thoughtful  hours, 
too  well  known  to  (inners,  which  proceed  from  guilty  remorfe  ; 
and  which,  inftead  of  preparing  for  tuuure  pleafure,  damp  and 
ficken  the  moment  of  enjoyment  ;  but  of  thofe  which  take  rife 
from  the  mind  retreating  into  itfelf,  and  opening  to  the  fenti- 
ments  ot  religion  ^nd  humanity.  Such  hours  of  virtuous  fadnefs 
brighten  the  gleams  of  fucceeding  joy.  They  give,  to  the  tem- 
perate enjoyments  of  the  pious  and  humane,  a  refined  and  deli- 
cate rehfli,  to  which  the  hardened  and  infenfible  are  entire 
Grangers,  For  it  will  be  found,  that  in  proportion  as  the  tender 
affedions  of  the  foul  are  kept  awake,  how  much  foever  they  may 
fometimes  diftrefs  the  heart,  they  preferve  it  open  likewife  to  the 
moft  agreeable  fenfations.  He  who  never  knew  the  forrows  of 
friendfliip,  never  alfo  knew  its  joys.  He  whofe  heart  cannot 
relent  in  the  houfe  of  mourning,  will,  in  the  moft  focial  hour  of 
the  houfe  of  feafting,  partake  of  no  more  than  the  loweft  part 

of  animal  pleafure. Having  premifed  thefc  obfervations,  I 

proceed  to  point  out  the  dired  effeds  of  a  proper  attention  to  the 
diftreffes  of  life  upon  our  moral  and  religious  charader. 

Int  the  firft  place,  the  houfe  of  mourning  is  calculated  to  give 
a  proper  check  to  our  natural   though tlellnefs  and  levity.     The 

indolence 
*  Prov.  xiv.   13. 


I04  On  the  Benefits  to  he  derived 

indolence  of  mankind,  and  their  love  of  pkafiire,  Ipread  tlirough 
all  charadlers  ap.d  ranks  foiDe  degree  of  averfion  to  what  is  grave 
and  ferious.  They  grafp  at  any  object,  either  of  bufinefs  or 
amufemerjt,  wliich  makes  the  prefent  moment  pafs  fmoothly  a- 
way  ;  which  carries  their  tlioughts  abroad,  and  faves  them  from 
the  trouble  of  refiedling  on  theiiifelves.  With  two  many,  this 
pafles  into  a  habit  of  conftant  diflipation.  If  their  fortune  and 
rank  allow  them  to  indulge  their  inclinations,  they  devote  them- 
ielves  to  the  puriuit  of  amufement  through  all  its  different  forms. 
Thefkilful  arrangement  of  its  fuccelTive  fcenes,  and  the  preparato- 
ry ftudy  for  fhining  in  each,  are  the  only  exertions  on  which 
their  underftandii;g  is  employed.  Such  a  mode  of  life  may  keep 
alive,  for  a  while,  a  frivolous  vivacity.  It  may  improve  men  in 
forae  of  thofe  exteriour  accon)plifJiments,  which  fparkle  in  the 
eyes  of  the  giddy  and  the  vain  ;  but  it  muft  link  them  in  the 
efteeiTi  of  all  rhe  wife.  It  renders  them  Grangers  to  themfelves ; 
and  ufclefs,  if  not  pernicious,  to  the  world.  They  lofe  every 
manly  principle.  Their  minds  become  relaxed  and  effeminate. 
All  that  is  great  or  refpf^^able  in  the  human  charader  is  buried 
under  a  mafs  of  trifles  and  follies. 

If  fome  mealbresouglu  robe  taken  for  refcuing  the  mind  from 
this  difgraceful  levity  ;  if  fome  principles  muft  be  acquired, 
which  may  gi\'e  more  dignity  and  (leadinefs  to  cojiduft  ;  where, 
I  pray  you,  are  thefe  to  be  looked  for  ?  Not  furely  in  the  houfe 
of  feafting,  where  every  objecl  flatters  the  fenfes,  and  ftrength- 
ens  the  feduclions  to  which  we  are  already  prone  ;  where  the 
fpirit  of  dilTipation  circulates  from  heart  to  heart;  and  the  children 
of  folly  n»utuaily  admire  and  are  admired.  It  is  in  the  foberand  feri- 
ous houfe  of  mourning  that  the  tide  of  vanity  is  made  to  turn,  and 
a  new  diredlion  given  to  the  current  of  thought.  When  fome 
affcdling  incident  prefcnts  a  flrong  difcovery  of  the  deceitful nefs 
of  all  worldly  joy,  and  roufes  our  fenfibiliry  to  human  woe  ; 
when  we  behold  thofe  with  whom  we  had  lately  mingled  in  the 
houfe  of  feafting,  funk  by  fome  of  the  fudden  viciifitudes  of  life 
into  the  vale  of  mifery  ;  or  when,  in  'i-^d  iilence,  we  fland  by 
the  friend  whom  we  loved  as  our  own  foul,  flretched  on  the  bed 
of  death  ;  then  is  the  feafon  when  the  world  begins  to  appear  in  a 
new  light  ;  when  the  heart  opens  to  virtuous  feiuiments,  and  i:i 

led 


from  the  Hovfe  of  Mounung.  105 

led  into  that  train  of  refleflion  which  ought  to  direct  life.  He 
who  before  knew  not  what  It  was  to  commune  with  his  heart  on 
any  ferious  fubjeifl,  now  puts  the  queftion  to  himfelf,  for  what 
purpofe  he  was  fent  forth  into  this  mortal,  tranfitory  ftate  ; 
what  his  fate  is  likely  to  be  when  it  concludes  ;  and  what  jadg. 
ment  he  ought  to  form  of  thofe  pleafures  which  amufe  for  a  lit- 
tie,  but  which,  he  now  fees,  cannot  fave  the  heart  from  anguidi 
in  the  evil  day  ?  Touched  by  the  hand  of  thoughtful  melancholy, 
that  airy  edifice  of  blifs,  which  fancy  had  raifed  up  for  him,  vanifli- 
es  away.  He  beholds,  in  the  place  of  it,  the  lonely  and  barren 
defert,  in  which,  furrounded  with  many  a  difagreeable  objed:,  he 
is  left  muting  upon  himfelf.  The  time  v^hich  he  has  mif-fpent, 
and  the  faculties  which  he  has  mifemployed,  his  foolifh  levity  and 
his  criminal  purfuits,  all  rife  in  painful  profped  before  him. 
That  unknown  ftate  of  exiftence  into  which,  race  after  race,  the 

children  of  men  pafs,  ftrikes  his  mind  withfolemn  awe. Is 

there  no  courfe  by  which  he  can  retrieve  his  pad  errours  ?  Is 
there  no  fuperiour  power  to  which  he  can  look  up  for  aid  ?  Is 
there  no  plan  of  condudl  which,  if  it  exempt  him  not  from  for- 
row,  can  at  lead  procure  him  conlblation  aniidft  the  diftrefsful  ex- 
igencies of  life  ? Such  meditations  as  thefe,  fuggefted  by  the 

houfe  of  mourning.^  frequently  produce  a  change  on  the  whole 
character.  They  revive  thofe  fparks  of  goodnefs  which  were 
nigh  being  quite  exiinguifhed  in  the  diillpated  mind  ;  and  give 
rife  to  principles  of  conduct  more  rational  in  themfelves,  and 
more  fuitable  to  the  human  ftatc. 

In  the  fecond  place,  impreffions  of  this  nature  not  only  produce 
moral  ferioufnefs,  but  awaken  fentiments  of  piety,  and  bring  men 
into  the  fan^tuary  of  religion.  One  might,  indeed,  imagine  that 
the  blefhngs  of  a  profperous  condition  w  ould  prove  the  moft  natu- 
ral incitements  to  devotion  ;  and  that  when  men  were  happy  in 
themfelves,  and  faw  nothing  but  happinefs  around  them,  they 
could  not  fail  gratefully  to  acknowledge  that  God  who  giveth  the??t 
all  things  richly  to  enjoy.  Yet  fuch  is  their  corruption,  that  they 
arc  never  more  ready  to  forget  their  benefador,  than  when  load- 
ed with  his  benefits.  The  giver  is  concealed  from  theircarelefs 
and  inattentive  view,  by  the  cloud  of  his  own  gifts.    When  their 

life 


io6  On  the  Benefits  to  be  derived 

life  continues  to  flow  in  one  fmooth  current  unruffled  by  any 
griefs ;  when  they  neither  receive  in  their  own  circumftances,  nor 
allow  themfelves  to  receive  from  the  circumftances  of  others,  any 
admonitions  of  human  liability,  they  not  only  become  reganilefs 
of  Providence,  but  are  in  hazard  of  contemning  it.  Glory  in 
their  Ifrength,  and  lifted  up  by  the  pride  of  life  into  fuppofed  in- 
dependence, that  impious  fentiment,  if  not  uttered  by  the  mouth, 
yet  too  often  lurks  in  the  hearts  of  many,  during  their  flourifhing 
periods,  What  is  the  Almighty  that  we  Jl^ould  ferve  him,  and  in  hat 
profit  fioould  -we  have  if  we  pray  unto  him  P 

If  fuch  be  the  tendency  of  the  houfe  of  feafting,  how  neceflary 
is  it,  that,  by  fome  change  in  their  fituation,  men  fliould  be  oblig- 
ed to  enter  into  the  houfe  of  mourning,  in  order  to  recover  a 
proper  fenfe  of  their  ciependcnt  ftate  ?  It  is  there,  when  forfaken 
by  the  gaieties  of  the  world,  and  left  alone  with  God,  that  we 
are  made  to  perceive  how  awful  his  government  is ;  how  eafily 
human  greatnefs  bends  before  him  ;  and  how  quickly  all  our  de* 
fignsand  meafures,  at  his  interpofal,  vaniih  into  nothing.  There, 
when  the  countenance  is  fad,  and  the  affections  are  foftened  by 
grief;  when  we  fit  apart,  involved  in  ferious  thought,  looking 
down  as  from  fome  eminence  on  thofe  dark  clouds  that  hang  over 
the  life  of  man,  the  arrogajfice  of  profperity  is  humbled,  and  the 
heart  melts  under  the  impreffions  of  religion.  Formerly  we  were 
taught,  but  now  we  fee^  we  feel,  how  much  we  ftand  in  need 
of  an  Almighty  Protector,  amidft  the  changes  of  this  vain  world. 
Our  foul  cleaves  to  him  who  defpifes  noty  nor  abhors  the  affli^ion 
of  the  affli^ed.  Prayer  flows  forth  of  its  own  accord  from  the 
relenting  heart,  that  he  may  be  our  God,  and  the  God  of  our 
friends  in  diflrefs;  that  he  may  never  forfake  ui  while  we  are  fo« 
journing  in  this  land  of  pilgrimage ;  may  ftrengthen  us  under  its 
calamities,  and  bring  us  hereafter  to  thofe  habitations  of  reft, 
where  we,  and  they  whom  we  love,  may  be  delivered  from  the 
.  trials  which  all  are  now  doomed  to  endure.  The  difcoveries  of 
his  mercy,  which  he  has  made  in  the  Gofpel  of  Chrift,  are  viewed 
with  joy,  as  fo  many  rays  of  light  fent  down  from  above  to  dif- 
pel,  in  fome  degree,  the  furrounding  gloom.  A  Mediator  and 
Interceflbr  with  the  Sovereign  of  the  univerfe,  appear  comforta- 
ble names,  and  the  refurredion  of  the  juft  becomes  the  powerful 

cordial 


from  the  Houfe  of  IMournhig.  loy 

cordial  of  gi  ief.  In  fuch  moments  as  thefe,  which  we  may  juft- 
ly  call  happy  mopients,  the  foul  participates  of  all  thepleafures  of 
devotion*  It  feels  the  power  of  religion  to  fupport  and  relieve. 
It  is  foftened,  vvithwut  being  broken.  It  is  full,  and  it  pours  it- 
felf  forth  ;  pours  itfelf  fourth,  if  we  may  be  allowed  to  ufe  the 
exprefTion,  into  the  bofom  of  its  merciful  Creator. 

In  the  third  place,  fuch  ferious  fentiments  produce  the  happieft 
effed  upon  our  difpofition  towards  our  fellow-creatures,  as 
well  as  towards  God,  It  is  a  common  and  juft  obfervation,  that 
they  who  have  lived  always  in  affluence  and  eafe,  ftrangers  to  the 
miferies  of  life,  are  liable  to  contrad:  hardnefs  of  heart  with  re- 
fped  to  all  the  concerns  of  others.  Wrapped  up  in  themfelves, 
and  their  own  pleafures,  they  behold  with  indifference  the  mod 
afFecling  fcencs  of  diftrefs.  Habituated  to  indulge  all  their  defires 
without  controul,  they  become  impatient  of  the  leaft  provocation 
or  offence  ;  and  are  ready  to  trample  on  their  inferiours,  as  if  they 
were  creatures  of  a  different  fpecies  from  themfelves.  Is  this  an 
amiable  temper,  or  fuch  as  becomes  a  man  ?  When  appearing  in 
others,  do  we  not  view  it  with  much  difpleafure  ?  When  imputed 
to  ourfelves,  can  we  avoid  accounting  it  a  fevere  reproach? 

By  the  experience  of  diftrefs,  this  arrogant  infenfibility  of  tem- 
per is  mod  effedually  corredled  ;  as  the  remembrance  of  our  own 
fufferings  naturally  prompts  us  to  feel  for  others  when  they  fuffer. 
But  if  Providence  has  been  fo  kind  as  not  to  fubjed  us  to  much 
of  this  difcipline  in  our  own  lot,  let  us  draw  improvement  from 
the  harder  lot  of  others.  Let  us  fometimes  ftep  afide  from  the 
fmooth  and  flowery  paths  in  which  we  are  permitted  to  walk,  in 
order  to  view  the  toilfome  march  of  our  fellows  through  the  thor- 
ny defert.  By  voluntarily  going  into  the  houfe  of  mourning  ;  by 
yielding  to  the  fentiments  which  it  excites,  and  mingling  our  tears 
with  thofe  of  the  afflifted,  we  fliall  acquire  that  humane  fenfibili- 
ty  which  is  one  of  the  higheft  ornaments  of  the  nature  of  man. 
Perceiving  how  much  the  common  diftrelles  of  life  place  us  all  ou 
a  level,  and  render  the  high  and  the  low,  the  rich  and  the  poor, 
companions  in  misfortune  aad  morality,  vwe  fliall  learn  to  fet  no 
man  at  nought,  and,  leafl  of  any,  our  afflided  brother.  Preju- 
slices  will  be  extinguifhed,  and  benevolence  opentd  and  enlarged^ 

N  \     wHien 


Io8  C'ft  the  Benefits  to  be  derived 

when  looking  around  on  the  multitude  of  men,  we  c  on  fid  er  them 
2^  a  band  of  fellow-travellers  in  the  valley  of  woe,  where  it 
ought  to  be  the  office  of  every  one  to  alleviate,  as  much  as  poflible, 

the  common  burden. While  the  vain  and  the  licentious  are 

revelling  in  the  midft  of  extravagance  and  riot,  how  little  do  they 
think  of  thofe  fcenes  of  fore  diltfefs  which  are  going  on  at  that 
moment  throughout  the  world;  multitudes  ftruggling  for  a  poor 
fubfiftence  to  fupport  the  wife  and  the  children  whom  they  love, 
and  who  look  up  to  them  Vv'ith  eager  eyes  for  that  bread  which 
they  can  hardly  procure  ;  multitudes  groaning  under  ficknefs  in 
delblate  cottages,  untended  and  unmourned  ;  many,  apparently 
in  a  better  fituation  of  life,  pining  away  in  fecret  with  concealed 
griefs ;  families  weeping  over  the  beloved  friends  whom  they  have 
loft,  or  in  all  the  bitternefs  of  anguifh,  bidding  thofe  who  are 
juft  expiring  the  laft  adieu  I 

May  we  not  appeal  to  the  heart  of  every  good  man,  nay  al- 
raoft  to  the  heart  of  every  man  who  has  not  diverted  himfelf  of 
his  natural  feelings,  whether  the  adaiilFion  of  fuch  views  of  hu- 
man life  might  not,  fometimes  at  leaft,  furnilh  a  more  worthy 
employment  to  the  mind,  than  that  mirth  of  fools,  which  Solomon 
compares  to  the  crackling  of  thorns  under  a  pot  ;*  the  tranfient 
burft  of  unmeaning  joy  ;  the  empty  explofion  of  giddinefs  and  le- 
vity I  Thofe  fallies  of  jollity  in  the  houfe  of  feafting  are  often 
forced  from  a  troubled  mind ;  like  flaflies  from  the  black  cloudj 
which,  after  a  momentary  effulgence,  are  fucceeded  by  thicker 
darknefs.     Whereas  companionate  alfedions,  even  at   the  time 
when  they  draw  tears  from  our  eyes  for  human  mifery,  convey 
fatisfadtion  to  the  heart.     The  gracious  appointment  of  Heaven 
has  ordained  that  fympathetic  pains  fhould  always  be  accompanied 
with  a  certain  degree  of  pleafure;   on  purpofe  that  we  might  be 
more  interefted  in  the  cafe  of  the  diftrelTed,  and  that,  by  this 
myfterious  bond,  man  might  be  linked  clofer  to  man.     The  in- 
ward latisfacftion  which  belongs  to  the  corapalTionate  affedions  is, 
at  the  fame  time,  heightened  by  the  approbation  which  they  re- 
ceive from  our  reafon ;  and  by  the  confcioufnefs  which  they  af- 
ford us  of  feeling  what  men  and  Chriftians  ought  to  feel. 

In 
*  Ecc/ef  vii.  6.  ' 


fr(^m  the  Houfe  of  Mourmvg,  109 

In  the  fourth  place,  the  difpofition  recommended  in  the  text, 
not  only  improves  us  in  piety  and  humanity,  but  likewife  aflTifts  us 
in  felf  government,  and  the  due  moderation  of  our  defires.  The 
houfe  of  mourning  is  the  fchool  of  temperance  and  fobriety. 
Every  wife  man  will  find  it  for  his  intereft  to  enter  into  it  fome- 
times  of  his  own  accord,  left  otherwife  he  be  compelled  to 
take  up  his  d.yelling  there.  Seafonable  interruptions  of  our  plea- 
fures  are  neceflary  to  their  prolongation.  For,  continued  fcenes 
of  luxury  and  indulgence  haften  to  a  melancholy  ilTue.  The 
houfe  of  feafting  too  often  becomes  an  avenue  to  the  houfe  of 
mourning.  Short,  to  the  licentious,  is  the  interval  between 
them  ;  and  fpeedy  the  tranfition  from  the  one  to  the  other. 

But  fuppofmg  that,  by  prudent  management,  the  men  of  plea- 
fure  could  avoid  the  pernicious  effects  which  intemperance  and 
diflblutenefs  are  likely  to  produce  on  their  health  or  their  fortune, 
can  they  alfo  prevent  thofe  diforders  which  fuch  habits  will  intro- 
duce into  their  minds  ?  Can  they  efcape  that  wrath  of  the  Almigh- 
ty, which  will  infallibly  purfue  them  for  their  fins  both  here 
and  hereafter  ?  For  whence,  fo  much  as  from  the  unchecked 
purfuit  of  pleafure,  do  all  thofe  crimes  arife  which  ftain  the  cha- 
racters of  men  with  the  deepeft  guilt,  and  expole  them  to  the  fe- 
vereft  judgments  of  Heaven  ?  Whence,  then,  is  the  corredive  of 
thofe  mifchiefs  to  be  fought,  but  from  fuch  difcipline  as  fhall  mo- 
derate that  intempeiate  admiration  of  the  world  which  gave  rife 
to  the  evil  ?  By  repairing  fometimes  to  the  houfe  of  mourniog,  you 
would  chaften  the  loofenefs  of  fancy,  abate  the  eagernefs  of  paf- 
fion,  and  afford  fcope  to  reafon  for  exerting  her  reftraining  pow- 
ers. You  would  behold  this  world  ftripped  of  its  falfe  colours, 
and  reduced  to  its  proper  level.  Many  an  important  inflruaion 
you  would  receive  from  the  humiliation  of  the  proud,  the  morti- 
fication of  the  vain,  and  the  fufferings  of  the  voluptuous,  which 
you  would  fee  exemplified  before  you,  in  the  chambers  of  forrow, 
of  ficknefs,  and  of  death.  You  would  then  be  taught  to  rejaice 
as  though  you  rejoiced  not,  and  to  weep  as  though  you  weeped  not  ; 
that  is,  neither  in  joy,  nor  in  grief,  to  run  to  ty^ztk-,  but  to  vfe 
this  world  fo  as  not  to  ahufe  it;  contemplating  //s^  fajlnon  thereof  as 
pciffing  away. 

Moreover,  you  would  there  learn  the  important  lefion^of  fbit- 

ing 


I  lo  On  the  Benefits  to  he  deiived 

ing  your  tniiui,  before-hand,  to  what  you  had  reafon  to  expect 
from  the  world  ;  a  lefTon  too  fcldom  (iudied  by  mankind,  and  to 
the  neglecl:  of  which,  much  of  their  mifery,  and  much  of  their 
guilt,  is  to  be  charged.  By  turning  away  their  eyes  from  the 
dark  fide  of  hfe,  by  looking  at  the  world  only  in  one  light,  and 
that  a  flattering  one,  they  fornj  their  meafures  on  a  falfe  plan, 
and  are  neceflarily  deceived  and  betrayed.  Hence,  the  vexation 
of  fucceeding  difappointment  and  blafted  hope.  Hence,  their  cri- 
minal impatience  of  life,  and  their  bitter  accufations  of  God  and 
man  ;  when,  in  truth,  they  have  reafon  to  accufe  only  their  own 

folly. Thou  who  wouldft  acl  like  a  wife  man,   and  build  thy 

houfe  on  the  rock,  and  not  on  the  fand,  contemplate  human  life 
not  only  in  the  funihine,  but  in  the  fnade.  Frequent  the  houfe 
of  mourning,  as  well  as  the  hoai't;  of  mirth.  Study  the  nature 
of  that  ftate  in  which  thou  art  placed  ;  and  balance  its  joys 
-aith  its  forroA's.  Thou  feefl  that  the  cup  s\iiich  is  held  forth  to 
the  whole  human  race,  is  mixed.  Of  its  bitier  ingredients,  ex- 
pc(Sl:  that  rhou  art  to  drink  thy  portion,  l^hou  feeft  the  florm 
hovering  every  where  in  the  clouds  around  thee.  Be  not  furprif- 
cd  if  on  thy  head  it  fiiall  break.  Lower,  therefore,  thy  fails. 
Difmifs  thy  florid  hopes;  and  come  forth  prepared  either  to  acft 
or  to  fufter,  according  as  Heaven  li^all  decree.  Thus  (halt  thou 
be  excited  to  take  the  properefl  meafures  for  defence,  by  endea- 
vouring to  fecure  an  interelt  in  his  favour,  who,  in  the  time 
cf  trouble y  can  hide  thee  in  his  pavilion^  Thy  mind  fliall  adjuft  it- 
felf  to  follow  the  order  of  his  providence.  Thou  flialt  be  ena- 
bled, with  eqinnimity  and  fleadinefs,  to  hold  thy  courfe  through 
life. 

In  the  fifth  place,  by  accuftoming  curfelves  to  fuch  ferious 
views  of  life,  our  excefiive  fondnefs  for  life  itfelf  will  be  mode- 
rated, and  our  minds  gradually  formed  to  wifii  and  to  long  for 
a  better  world.  If  we  know  that  our  continuance  here  is  to  be 
fliort  and  that  we  are  intended  by  our  Maker  for  a  more  lafling 
itate,  and  for  employments  cfa  nature  ahogether  different  from 
thofe  which  nov,'  occupy  the  bufy,  or  amufe  the  vain,  we  mufl: 
fnreiy  be  convi:ice(i  tiiat  it  is  of  the  higheft  confequence  to  pre- 
pare  curfelves   for  fo  in^portant  a  change.     This  view  of  our  du- 


from  the  Houfe  of  Mourning,  1 1 1 

ty  is  frequently  held  up  to  us  in  the  facred  writings ;  and  hence 
religion  becomes,  though  not  a  morofe,  yet  a  grave  and  folemn 
principle,  calling  ofTthe  attention  of  men  from  light  purfuits  ta 
thole  which  are  of  eternal  moment.  What  is  a  man  profited  if  he 
fl^all  gain  the  whole  worU,  and  lofe  his  own  foul ;  if  he  fliall  lead  a 
life  of  thoughtlefs  mirth  on  earth,  and  exclude  himfelf  from  eter- 
nal felicity  in  heaven?  Worldly  afFedion  and  lenfual  pleafure 
deprefs  all  our  higher  powers.  They  form  an  unnatural  union 
between  the  human  foul  and  this  earth,  which  was  only  defigned 
for  its  temporary  abode.  They  attach  it  too  ftrongly  to  objeds 
from  which  it  muft  fhortly  parr.  They  alienate  its  defires  from 
God  and  heaven,  and  deje£t  it  with  flavifh  and  unmanly  fears  of 
death.  Whereas,  by  the  difcipline  of  religious  ferioufnefs,  it  is 
gradually  loofened  from  the  fetters  of  fenfe.  AlTifted  to  difcover 
the  vanity  of  this  world,  it  rifes  above  it ;  and  in  the  hours  of 
fober  thought,  cultivates  connexion  with  thofe  divine  and  im- 
mortal objeds,  among  which  it  is  defigned  to  dwell. 

Enough  has  now  been  faid  to  convince'any  thinking  perfon  of  the 
juftice  and  reafonablenefs  of  the  maxims  in  the  text ;  and  to  fiiow, 
that,  on  various  occafions,  forrow  may  be  better  than  laughter, 
Wouldft  thou  acquire  the  habit  of  recollecTtion,  and  fix  the  prin- 
ciples of  thy  coudu6l ;  wouldft  thou  be  led  up  to  thy  Creator  and 
rledeemer,  and  be  formed  to  fentiments  of  piety  and  devotion  ; 
wouldfi  thou  be  acquainted  with  thofe  mild  and  tender  afFedions 
which  delight  the  companionate  and  humane;  wouldft  thou  have 
the  power  of  fenfual  appetites  tamed  and  correded,  and  thy  foul 
raifed  above  the  ignoble  love  of  life,  and  fear  of  death  ?  Go,  my 
brother,  go — not  to  fcene«  of  pleafure  and  riot,  not  to  the  houfe 
of  feafting  and  mirth — but  to  the  filent  houfe  of  mourning  ;  and 
adventure  to  dwell  for  a  while  among  objedts  that  will  foften  thy 
heart.  Conteaiplate  the  lifelefs  remains  of  what  once  was  fair 
and  fiourifhing.  Bring  home  to  thyfelf  the  vicifTitudes  of  life. 
Recal  the  remembrance  of  the  friend,  the  parent,  or  the  child, 
whom  thou  tenderly  lovedft.  Look  back  on  the  days  of  former 
years;  and  think  on  the  companions  of  thy  youth,  who  now  fleepiu 
the  duft.  Let  the  vanity,  the  mutability,  and  the  forrows  of  the  hu- 
man ftate,  rife  in  full  profped  before  thee ;  and  though  thy  couffte- 

nance 


J 1 2  On  the  Benefits  to  be  derived,  Bcc. 

nance  may  be  made  fad,  thy  heart  /hall  be  made  better.  This  fadnefs, 
though  for  the  prefent  it  dejects,  yet  fliall  in  the  end  fortify  thy 
fpirit  ;  infpiring  thee  with  fuch  fentiments,  and  prompting  fuch 
refolutions  as  Ihali  enable  thee  to  enjoy,  with  more  real  advan- 
tage, the  red  of  life,  Difpodtions  of  this  nature  form  one  part 
©f  the  charader  of  thofe  mourners  whom  our  Saviour  hath  pro- 
nounced bkjfed ;  and  of  thofe  to  whom  it  is  promifed,  that  fovj- 
ing  in  tears  they  Jh all  reap  in  joy  ."^  A  great  difference  there  is  be- 
tween being  ferious  and  melancholy  ;  and  a  melancholy  too  there 
is  of  that  kind  which  deferves  to  be  fometimes  indulged. 

Religion  hath  on  the  whole  provided  for  every  good  man 
abundant  materials  of  confolation  and  relief.  How  dark  foever 
the  prefent  face  of  nature  may  appear,  it  difpels  the  darknefs, 
when  it  brings  into  view  the  entire  fyflem  of  things,  and  extends 
our  furvey  to  the  whole  kingdom  of  God.  It  reprefents  what 
we  now  behold  as  only  a  part,  and  a  fmall  part^  of  the  general  order. 
It  affures  us,  that  though  here,  for  wife  ends,  mifery  and  forrow 
are  permitted  to  have  place,  thefe  temporary  evils  fliall,  in  the 
end,  advance  the  happinefs  of  all  who  love  God,  and  are  faithful 
to  their  duty.  It  fliows  them  this  mixed  and  confufed  fcene  va- 
nifliing  by  degrees  away,  and  preparing  the  introdudion  of  that 
ftate,  where  the  houfe  of  mourning  fliall  be  (hut  up  for  ever ; 
where  no  tears  are  {Qe\),  and  no  groans  heard  ;  v/here  no  hopes 
are  frullrated,  and  no  virtuous  connections  diflblved ;  but  where, 
under  the  light  of  the  divine  countenance,  gocdneJs  fliall  flourifli 
in  perpetual  felicity.  Thus,  though  religion  may  occafionally 
chalten  our  mirth  with  fadnefs  of  countenance,  yet  under  that 
fadnefs  it  allows  not  the  heart  of  good  men  to  fink.  It  calls  up- 
on them  to  rejoice,  becaufe  the  Lord  reigneth  who  is  their  Rock,  and 
the  mojl  high  God  who  is  their  Redeemer.  Reafon  likewife  joins 
her  voice  with  that  of  religion;  forbidding  us  to  make  peevifh 
and  unreafonable  complaints  of  human  life,  or  injurioufly  to  af- 
cribe  to  ic  more  evil  than  it  contains.  Mixed  as  the  prefent 
ftate  is,  fhe  pronounces,  that  generally,  if  not  always,  there  is 
more  happinefs  than  mifery,  more  pleafurs  than  pain,  in  the  con- 
dition of  man. 

SERMON 

*  Matth,  V.  4.     Pfahn  cxxvi.  5. 


[       lOO      ] 

SERMON      XXIX. 

On     the  divine   Government  of  the  Passions 

of  Men. 

^  •^--^•"^-•^•^ft -^ 

Psalm  Ixxvi.  lo. 

Surely  the  wrath  of  man  Jhall  pralfethee  ;  the  rematnd^  of  wrath 
jhalt  thou  rejirain^ 

THIS  Pfalm  appears  to  have  been  compofed  on  occafion  of 
forne  remarkable  deliverance  obtained  by  the  Jewifh  nation. 
It  is  generally  underftood  to  have  been  writing  in  the  reign  of 
Hezekiah,  and  to  refer  to  the  formidable  invafion  of  Judsea  by 
Sennacherib  ;  when  the  angel  of  the  Lord,  in  one  night,  difcom- 
lited  the  whole  Aflyrian  hoft,  and  fmote  them  with  fudden  deftruc- 
tion.  To  this  interpofition  of  the  divine  arm,  thofe  exprcflions  in  the 
context  may  naturally  be  applied  ;  Then  brake  he  the  arrows  of  the 
bow,  thefhield,  the /word,  and  the  battle,  TheJlout-heariedarefpoUed: 
they  have  flept  their  Jleep;  and  none  cf  the  men  of  might  have  fQund 
their  hands.  At  thy  rebuke,  0  God  of  Jacob,  both  the  chariot  and 
the  horfe  are  caji  into  a  dead  fleep.  In  the  text  we  have  the  wife: 
and  religious  reflexion  of  the  Pfalmift  upon  the  violent  de^ 
figns  which  had  been  carried  on  by  the  enemies  of  his  country, 
and  upon  the  ifTue  to  which  Providence  had  brought  them.  Sure^ 
ly  the  wrath  of  man  fhall  praife  thee.  By  the  wrath  of  man,  we 
are  to  underftand  all  that  the  impetuofity  of  human  palTions  can 
devife  or  execute;  the  projeds  of  ambition  and  refentment,  the 
rage  of  perfeeution,  the  fury  of  war;  the  diforders  which  vio- 
lence  produces  in  private  life,  and  the  public  commotions  which 
it  excites  in  the  world.  All  thefe  (hall  praife  Cod,  not  with  their 
mtention  and  dellgn^  nor  b/  their  native  tendency ;  but  by  thofe 

wife 


1 14  On  the  divine  Government,  &c. 

wife  and  good  purpofes,  which  his  providence  makes  them  acrom- 
plilh  ;  from  their  poifon  extradling  health,  and  converting  things 
which  in  themfclves  are  pernicious,  into  inftruments  of  his  glory, 
and  of  public  benefit  :  So  that,  though  the  wrath  of  man  worketh 
riot  the  right eoufnefs  of  God,  it  is  neverthelefs  forced  and  compelled 
to  minilter  to  his  praife.  The  Pfalmifl  adds,  the  remainder  of 
-<uraih  fjialt  thou  refirain  ;  that  is,  God  will  allow  fcope  to  the 
wrath  of  man  as  far  as  it  anfwers  his  good  purpofes,  and  is  fub- 
fervient  to  his  praife;  the  reft  of  it  Ihall  be  curbed  and  bound  up. 
When  it  would  attempt  to  go  beyond  itsprefcribed  limit,  he  fays 
to  it,  as  to  the  waters  of  the  ocean,  '♦  Hitherto  flialt  thou  come, 
"  but  no  farther  ;  and  here  fliall  thy  proud  waves  be  flayed.'^ 

All  this  diall  be  fully  verified  and  declared  by  the  laft  iffue  of 
things ;  when  we  (hall  be  able  more  clearly  to  trace  the  divine 
adminirtration  through  its  leveral  fteps,  by  feeing  the  confumma- 
tion  of  the  whole.  In  fome  cafes,  it  may  be  referved  for  this 
period  to  unfold  the  myfterious  wifdom  of  Heaven.  But  in  ge- 
neral, as  much  of  the  divine  conduct  is  at  prefent  manifeft,  as 
gives  juft  ground  for  the  alTertion  in  the  text.  In  the  fequel  of 
this  difcourfe,  I  fliall  endeavour  to  illuftrate  and  confirm  it,  I 
fliall  fhow  in  what  nianner  the  wrath  of  man  is  made  to  praife  the 
power,  the  wifdom,  the  juftice,  and  the  goodnefs  of  God. 

I  BEGIN  with  this  obfervation,  That  in  order  to  accomplifh  the 
great  purpofes  carried  on  by  the  Government  of  the  Univerfe,  it 
is  neceflary  that  the  divine  perfedions  be  difplayed  before  man- 
kind in  a  fenfible  and  ftriking  manner.  We  are  not  to  conceive 
the  fupreme  Being  as  hereby  feeking  praife  to  himfelf,  from  a 
principle  of  oftentation  or  vain-glory.  Independent  and  felf- 
fufficient,  he  reils  in  the  enjoyment  of  his  own  beatitude.  His 
praile  eonfifts  in  the  general  order  and  welfare  of  his  creation. 
This  end  cannot  be  attained,  unJefs  mankind  be  made  to  feel  the 
fubje(5tion  under  v. hich  they  are  placed.  They  muft  be  taught  to 
admire  and  adore  their  Sovereign.  They  mnft  be  overawed  by 
the  view  of  a  high  hand,  which  canatpleafure  controul  their  ac- 
tions, and  render  them  fubfervient  ro  purpofes  which  they  nei- 
ther forefaw  nor  intended,  Heiice  the  propriety  of  God's  mak- 
ing the  wrath  of  man  tQ  praife  him.     We  eafily  conceive  in  vvhar 

manner 


Qf  the  Paffions  of  Men,    ,  1 1  r 

manner  the  heavens  and  the  earth  are  faid  to  praife  God,  as  they 
are  ihnding  monuiiients  of  that  fupreme  perfection  which  is  di(- 
played  in  their  creation.  The  virtues  of  good  men  obvionfly 
praife  him,  by  exhibiting  his  image,  and  refleding  back  his  glory. 
But  when  even  the  vices  and  inordinate  paHions  of  bad  men  are 
made  to  praife  him,  in  coniequence  of  the  ufeful  purpofes  which 
they  are  compelled  to  accompli fli,  this,  in  a  particular  manner, 
diftinguiflies  and  fignalizes  a  divine  hand  ;  this  opens  a  more 
vvonderfnl  profped  of  the  adminiftraticn  of  Heaven,  than  if  all 
its  fubjefts  had  been  loyal  and  willingly  obedient,  and  the  courfe 
of  human  affairs  had  proceeded  in  a  quiet  and  regular  tenour. 

I.  The  wrath  of  man  redounds  to  the  praife  of  divine  power.  It 
brings  it  forth  with  full  and  awful  lufire,  to  the  view  of  man- 
kind. To  reign  with  fovcreign  command  amidft  the  moft  turbu- 
lent and  dilbrdered  ftate  of  things,  both  in  the  natural  and  moral 
world,  is  the  peculiar  glory  of  omnipotence.  Hence  God  is  de- 
fcribed  in  Scripture  as  **  fitting  on  the  flood,  riding  on  the  wings 
"  of  the  wind,  dwelling  in  the  darknefs  and  the  tempeft  ;"  that 
is,  making  the  moit  violent  powers  in  the  uuiverfe  minifter  to  his 
will,  giving  them  fcope,  or  reftraining  them,  according  as  fuits 
the  purpofes  of  his  dominion.  As  he  fiills^  at  his  pleafure,  <^  the 
*'  raging  of  the  feas,  and  the  noifeof  their  waves,"  in  like  man- 
ner "  he  (tills  the  tumults  of  the  people.'*  When  the  pafllons  of 
men  are  molt  inflamed,  and  their  defigns  jult  ripe  for  burning 
into  execution,  often^  by  fonie  unexpeded  interpofition,  he  calls 
upon  the  world  to  obferve  that  there  is  one  h'gher  than  the  high- 
eft  on  earth,  who  can  frufl:rate  their  devices  in  a  moment,  and 
command  "  the  earth  to  be  (till  before  him."  Proud  fleets,  de- 
ftined  to  carry  defl ruction  to  neighbouring  kingdoms,  may  rover 
t^e  ocean.  He  blows  with  his  wind,  and  they  are  fcattcred. 
Mighty  armies  may  go  forth  to  the  field  in  all  the  glory  of  human 
ftrength  ;  but  the  ilTues  of  battle  are  with  him.  He  fufpends  on 
high  the  invifible  b.ilance  which  weighs  the  fate  of  nations.  Ac- 
cording as  the  fcale  inclines,  he  gives  to  fome  flight  event  the 
power  of  deciding  the  contelt.  He  clouds  ihe  iliy  willi  darknefs, 
or  opens  the  windows  of  heaven  to  let  forth  their  flood.  He 
•lejeds  the  hearts  of  the  brave  ivith  fudden  terrour,  and  renders 

O  the 


1 1 6  On  the  divine  Government 

the  hands  cf  the  (Irong  \wak  and  unperforming  at  the  critical 
moment.  A  thoufand  unfeen  ininiflers  Hand  ready  to  be  the  in- 
flruments  of  his  power,  in  humbling  the  pride,  and  checking  the 
efforts  of  the  wrath  of  man.  Thus,  in  the  inftance  of  haughty 
Sennacherib,  and  that  boafled  tempeil  of  wrath  which  he  threat- 
ened to  pour  upon  all  the  Jewifii  nation  ;  '^  I  will  put  my  hook,'' 
fays  the  Almighty,  "  in  thy  nofe,  and  my  bridle  in  thy  lips,  and 
*'  I  will  turn  thee  back  by  the  way  by  which  thou  earned."*  In 
that  night  the  deftroying  angel  Imote  the  hoil,  and  he  ^'  departed 
<'  with  fhame  of  face  to  his  own  land.  When  the  heathen  rage, 
''  and  the  people  imagine  a  vain  thing  ;  when  the  kings  of  the 
'*  earth  fet  themfelves,  and  its  rulers  take  council  together.  He 
**  that  fitteth  in  the  Heavens  (hall  laugh  ;  the  Lord  (hall  hold 
**  them  in  derifion.'^f 

n.  THEiurath  of  man  is  made  to  pra'^^e  the  wifdom  as  well  as 
the  power  of  God.  Nothing  difplays  more  remarkably  the  ad- 
mirable  council  of  heaven,  than  its  arranging  the  train  of  events 
in  fuch  a  manner,  that  the  unruly  paffions  of  the  wicked  fliall  contri- 
bute to  overthrow  their  own  deligns.  Hiftory  abounds  with  ex- 
amples of  their  being  rendered  the  unconfcious  minifters  of  Pro- 
vidence, to  accomplilh  purpofes  diredly  oppofite  to  thofe  which 
they  had  in  view.  Thus  the  cruelty  of  the  fons  of  Jacob,  in  pur- 
fuing  the  deftru6tion  of  their  brother  Jofeph,  became  the  means 
of  effeding  his  high  advancement.  1  hus  the  wrath  of  Pharaoh 
^gainft  the  Ifraelites,  and  his  unjuft  attempts  to  detain  them  in 
bondage,  proved  the  occafion  of  bringing  them  forth  from  the  land 
of  flavery,  with  fignal  marks  of  the  favour  of  Heaven.  Thus 
the  inhuman  plan  which  Haman  had  formed  for  ruining  Mor- 
decai,  and  extirpating  the  whole  Jevvilh  nation,  paved  the  way 
for  Mordecai's  high  promotion,  and  for  the  triuniph  of  the  Jews 
over  all  their  enemies. 

After  this  manner  the  Almighty  "  fnareth  the  wicked  in  the 
<<  works  ot  their  hands  ;"  and  ereds  his  ov/n  council  upon  the 
ruin  of  theirs.  Thofe  events  which,  viewed  apart,  appear  as 
fpots  in  the  divine  adminiftration,  when  confidered  in  connexion 
with  all  their  confequences,  are    often  found  to  give  it  additional 

luttre. 
*  Kings f  xix.    28.     f  Pfalm  ii,    i,  2,  3. 


of  the  Paffims  of  Men,  117 

Wire.  The  beauty  anj  magnificence  of  the  univerfe  are  much 
heightened,  by  its  being  an  extenfive  and  complicated  fyftem  ;  in 
which  a  variety  ot  fprings  are  made  to  play,  and  a  multitude  of 
different  movements  are,  with  moft  admirable  art,  regulated  and 
kept  in  order.  Interfering  intcrefts,  and  jarring  pafTions,  are  in 
iuch  manner  balanced  againft  one  another  ;  fuch  proper  checks 
are  placed  on  the  violence  of  human  purfuits  ;  and  the  -wrath  of 
man  is  made  fo  to  hold  its  courfe,  that  how  oppofite  foever  the 
feveral  motions  feem  to  be,  yet  they  concur  and  meet  at  laft  in 
one  direction.  While,  among  the  multitudes  that  dwell  on  the 
face  of  the  earth,  ^on-\2  are  fubmiirive  to  the  divine  authority  ;  fome 
rife  up  in  rebellion  againft  it  ;  others,  abforbed  in  their  pleafures 
and  purfuits,  are  totally  inattentive  to  it ;  they  are  all  fo  moved 
by  an  imperceptible  influence  from  ajbove,  that  the  zeal  of  the  du- 
tiful, the  wrath  of  the  rebellious,  and  the  indifference  of  the  carelefs, 
contribute  finally  to  the  glory  of  God.  All  are  governed  in  fuch 
away  as  fuits  their  powers^  and  is  confiftent  with  rational  free- 
dom, yet  all  are  fubjeded  to  the  neceffity  of  fulfilling  the  eternal 
purpofes  of  Heaven.  This  depth  of  divine  wifdom  in  the  admi- 
niftration  of  the  univerle,  exceeds  all  human  comprehenfion,  and 
affords  everlafting  fubjed  of  adoration  and  praife. 

III.  The  wrath  of  man  praifes  the  juftice  of  God,  by  being 
employed  as  the  inftrument  of  infliding  punifliment  upon  (inners. 
Did  bad  men  trace  the  courfe  of  events  in  their  life  with  attentive 
eye,  they  might  eafily  difcover  the  greateft  part,  of  the  difafters 
which  they  fuffer,  to  be  brought  upon  them  by  their  own  ungo- 
verned  pafFions.  The  fucceffion  of  caufes  and  effcdis  is  fo  contrived 
by  Providence,  that  the  wrath  which  they  meant  to  pour  forth 
on  others,  frequently  recoils,  by  its  effeds,  upon  themfelves. 
But  fuppofing  them  to  efcape  thofe  external  mifchiefs  which  violent 
pafiions  naturally  occafion,  they  cannot  evade  the  internal  mifery 
which  they  produce.  The  conftitution  of  things  is  framed  with 
fuch  profound  wifdom,  that  the  divine  laws,  in  every  event,  ex- 
ecute themfelves  againff  the  (inner,  and  carry  their  fandtion  in 
their  own  bofom.  The  Supreme  Being  has  no  occafion  to  unlock 
the  prifons  of  the  deep,  or  to  call  down  the  thunder  from  heaven, 
in  order  to  punifh  the  wrath  of  man.     He  carries  on  the  admini- 

ftration 


1 1 8-  On  the  divine  Government 

llr.uioij  of  juflice  with  rnce  fimplicity  and  dignify.  It  is  fuf- 
ficienr  that  he  allow  thole  fierce  pafllons  which  render  bad  men 
tne  diiliirbers  of  others,  to  operate  on  their  own  hearts.  He  deli- 
vers them  up  to  themfelves,  and  they  become  their  own  tormen- 
tors. Before  the  world  they  may  dilgiiife  their  fiifierings  ;  but  it  is 
well  known,  that  to  be  inwardly  torn  with  defpite,  revenge,  and 
wrathful  paffions,  is  the  moft  intenfe  ot  all  milery.  In  thus  con- 
necting the  puniihment  with  the  crime,  xht'w  ownvslckednefs  tore- 
prove  them,  and  their  hackjlidings  io  chrrtii  them,  the  avenging 
hand  of  a  righteous  Governour  is  confpicuous  ;  and  thus  the  ob- 
fervation  of  the  Pfalmift  is  fully  verified  ;  "  the  wicked  have 
*'  drawn  out  their  fword  and  bent  their  bow,  to  caffc  down  the 
"  poor  and  needy;  but  their  fword  fliall  enter  into  their  own 
«  heart."* 

The  wrath  of  man  alfo  praifes  the  juflice  of  God  in  the  punifh- 
ment  of  other  criminals,  as  well  as  of  the  wrathful  themfelves. 
Ambitious  and  lawlefs  men  are  let  loofe  upon  each  other,  that, 
without  any  fupernatural  interpofition,  they  may  fulfil  the  juft 
vengeance  of  heaven  in  their  mutual  deftruclion.  They  may  oc- 
cafionally  be  cemented  together  by  confpiracy  againft  the  juft; 
but  as  no  firm  nor  lading  bond  can  unite  them,  they  become  at 
laft  the  prey  of  m.utual  jealoufy,  ftrife,  and  fraud.  For  a  time 
they  may  go  on,  and  feem  to  profper.  The  juftice  of  Heaven 
may  appear  to  flmiber  ;  but  it  is  awake,  and  only  waits  till  the 
mealure  of  their  iniquity  be  full.  God  reprefents  himfelf  in  Scrip- 
ture as  fometimes  permitting  wickednefs  to  arife  to  an  overgrown 
height,  Of)  purpofe  that  its  ruin  maybe  the  greater,  and  more 
exemplary.  He  fays  to  the  tyrant  of  Egypt,  that /or  this  canfe 
he  had  raifed  him  up,  that  is,  had  allowed  him  to  profper  and  be 
exalted,  '^  that  he  miglu  fliew  in  him  his  power;  and  that  his 
"  name  might  be  declared  throughout  all  the  earth.^f  The  di- 
vine adminiib'ation  is  glorified  in  the  punifhment  contrived  for 
the  workers  of  iniquity,  as  well  as  in  the  reward  prepared  for  the 
righteous.  "  This  is  the  purpofe  which  the  Lord  hath  purpofed 
"  upon  all  the  earth;  and  this  is  the  hand  that  is  fli etched  forth 
"  over  all  the  nations. '^t 

IV.  The  wrath  of  man  is  made  to  praife  the  goodnefs  of  God. 

This 
*  P/alm  xxxvii.    J  4,   15.     f  Ev.zd.  ix.   j6.     %  Jfaiah,  xiv,  a6. 


o/  the  Paflons  of  Men.  1 19 

This  is  the  moft  unexpcvSted  of  its  effects ;  and  therefore  requires 
to  be  the  moft  fully  illultrated.  All  the  operations  of  the  govern- 
ment of  the  Deity  may  be  ultimately  refolved  into  goodnefs.  His 
power,  and  wifdom,  iuid  jnftice,  all  conduce  to  general  happinefs 
and  ord?r.  Among  the  means  which  he  ufes  for  accomplidiing 
this  end,  it  will  be  found,  that  the  wrath  of  man,  through  his 
over-ruling  diredion,  polTelTes  a  confiderable  place. 

Firil,  it  is  en}ployed  by  God  as  an  ufeful  inftrument  of  difci- 
pline  and  corredion  to  the  virtuous.  The  ftorms  which  ambition 
and  pride  raife  among  mankind,  he  perm.its  with  the  fame  inten- 
tion that  he  fends  forth  tempefts  among  the  elements ;  to  clear  the 
atmofphere  of  lioxious  vapours,  and  to  purify  it  from  that  cor- 
ruption which  all  things  contrad  by  too  much  reft.  When  wick- 
ed men  prevail  in  their  defigns,  and  exercife  the  power  which 
they  have  gained  with  a  heavy  and  oppreffive  hand,  the  virtuous 
are  apt  to  exclaim,  in  bitternefsof  foul,  Where  is  the  Lord?  and 
where  the  fceptre  of  righteoufnefs  and  truth  ?  Hath  God  forgotten 
I0  be  graclou?  P  or  doth  he  indeed  fee,  and  is  there  knowledge  in  the 

Moji  High  ? Their  oppretTors  are,  in  truth,  no  more  than  the 

minifters  of  God  to  them  for  good.  He  fees  th^t  they  ftand  in 
need  of  corretftion,  and  therefore  raifes  up  eriemies  againft  them, 
in  order  to  cure  the  inte-nperance  of  profperity  ;  and  to  produce, 
in  the  ferious  hours  of  affl.dion,  proper  reflexions  upon  their  du- 
ty, and  their  pad  errours. 

In  this  light  the  diflurbers  of  the  earth  are  often  reprefented 
in  Scripture,  as  fcourges  in  the  hand  of  God,  ensployed  to  inflift 
chaftifement  upon  a  degenerating  people.  They  are  commifnoned 
for  the  execution  of  righteous  and  wife  purpofes,  concealed  from 
theinfelves  ;  and  when  their  commifiion  is  fulfilled,  they  are  re*; 
called  anddeftroyed.  Of  this  we  have  a  remarkable  example  in  theufe 
which  God  made  of  thekingof  AlTyria,  with  refped:  to  the  people  of 
Ifrael  :  "  I  will  fend  him  againft  an  hypocritical  nation,  and  a- 
'*  gainft  the  people  of  my  wrath  will  I  give  him  a  charge,  to  take 
^-  the  fpoil,  and  to  take  the  prey.  Howbeit,  he  meaneth  not  fo ; 
'"'^  neither  doth  his  heart  think  fo  ;  but  it  is  in  his  heart  to  deftroy, 
'^  and  cut  otf  nations  not  a  few.  Wherefore  it  fhall  come  to  pi.fs, 
"  that  wheti  the  Lord  hath  performed  his  whole  work  upon 
'^  mount  Zion  and  on  Jerufalem,   I  will  punifh  the  fruit  of  the 

"  ftout 


12©  Of4  the  divine  Goverwnent 

'*  ftout  heart  of  the  king  of  Aflyria,  and  the  glory  of  his  high 
'*  looks.''*  In  vain,  then,  doth  xhcwrath  ^f  man  hft  itfelf  up  a- 
gainft  God.  «  lie  faith,  by  the  ftrength  of  my  hand  I  have  done 
**  it,  and  by  my  wifdoin,  for  I  am  prndent.  Shall  the  ax  boaft 
"  itfeif  againft  him  that  heweth  therewith  ?  or  fliall  the  faw 
'^  magnify  itfelf  againfl  him  that  (baketh  it?''  All  things,  whether 
tliey  will  it  or  nor,  mufi  wgrk  together  jor  good  to  tktm  that  love 
Cod.  The  wrath  of  man,  among  the  reft,  fills  up  the  place  ailign- 
ed  to  it  by  the  ordination  of  Heaven.  The  violent  enemy,  the 
proud  conqueror,  and  the  o}>t:)refrive  tyrant,  polTelsonly  the  fame 
station  with  the  famine,  the  pePiilence,  and  the  flood.  Their 
triumphs  are  no  more  than  the  accomplifhment  of  God's  correc- 
tion ;  and  the  remainder  of  their  "jorath  Jhall  he  ref:rain, 

Seconi>ly,  God  makes  the  "xrath  of  man  contribute  to  the  be- 
nefit of  the  virtuous,  by  rendering  it  the  means  of  improving  and 
fingnalizing  their  graces ;  and  of  rafmg  them,  thereby,  to  higher 
honour  and  glory.  Had  human  affairs  proceeded  in  an  orderly 
train,  and  no  oppofition  been  made  to  religion  and  virtue  by  the 
violence  of  the  Vvickcd,  what  room  would  have  been  left  for  fom.e 
of  the  higbeft  and  moft  generous  exertions  of  the  foul  cf  man  ? 
Kow  many  fhining examples  of  fortitude,  conftancy,  and  patience, 
would  have  been  loft  to  the  world  ?  What  a  field  of  virtues  peculi- 
ar toa  fiate  of  difcipline  had  lain  uncultivated  ?  Spirits  of  a  higher 
order  pofiefs  a  flate  of  eftablilhed  virtue,  that  Hands  in  need  of 
no  fuch  trials  and  improvements.  But  tons,  who  are  only  under 
education  for  fuch  a  Itate,  it  belongs  to  pafs  through  the  furnace, 
that  our  fouls  may  be  tried,  refined,  and  brightened.  We  muft 
iland  the  tonflid,  that  we  may  be  graced  and  crowned  as  con- 
Tjucrors.  The  wrath  of  man  opens  the  field  to  glory ;  calls  us 
forth  to  the  mofl  diftinguillicd  cxercife  of  active  virtue,  and  forms 
us  to  all  thofe  fuffering  graces  which  are  among  the  higheft  orna- 
ments of  the  human  foul.  It  is  thus,  that  the  iliudrious  band  of 
true  patriots  and  heroes,  of  confeObrs  and  martyrs,  have  been 
Jet  forth  to  the  admiration  of  all  ages,  as  lights  of  the  world'; 
while  the  rage  and  fury  of  enemies,  inftead  of  bearing  them 
down,  have  only  fervcd  to  exalt  and  dignify  them  more. 

Thirdly, 
*  Ifaiahj  x.  6,  7,   12. 


%f  the  Pafions  of  Alert,  1 2 1 

Thirdly,  the  wrath  of  man  is  often  made  10  advance  t1»e  tem- 
poral profperity  of  the  righteous.  The  occafional  didrefTcs 
which  It  brings  upon  them,  frequently  lay  the  foundation  of  their 
turure  fuccefs.  The  violence  with  which  wicked  men  purfue 
their  refentment,  defeats  its  own  pnrpofe ;  and  engages  the 
world  on  the  fide  of  the  virtuous,  whom  they  perfecute.  The 
attempts  of  malice  to  blacken  and  defame  them,  bring  forth  their 
charaders  with  more  advantage  to  the  view  of  impartial  behold- 
ers. The  extremities  to  which  they  are  reduced  by  injufticc  and 
oppreflion,  roufe  their  courage  and  activity  ;  and  often  give  oc- 
fion  to  fuch  vigorous  efTorts  in  thcr  juft  defence,  as  overcome 
all  opppofition,  and  terminate  in  profperity  and  fuccefs.  Evea 
in  cafes  where  the  wrath  of  man  appears  to  prevail  over  the 
peaceable  and  the  juft,  it  is  frequently,  in  its  iflue,  converted  in- 
to a  blefilng.  How  many  have  had  reafon  to  be  thankful,  for 
being  difappointed  by  their  enemies  in  defigns  which  they  earnefl- 
Jy  purfued,  but  which,  if  fuccefsfully  acconiplifhed,  they  have  af- 
terwards feen  would  have  occafioned  their  ruin  ?  Whofo  is  wife, 
and  will  obferve  thefe  thirds,  even  he  fiali  underjiand  the  loving- 
kindnefs  (if  the  Lord,* 

While  the  wrath  cf  man  thus  praifes  God  by  the  advantages 
which  it  is  made  to  bring  to  good  men,  as  individuals,  the  di- 
vine hand  is  equally  apparent  in  the  fimilar  elfeds  which  it  is  ap- 
pointed to  produce  to  nations  and  focieties.  When  wars  and 
commotions  fhake  the  earth,  when  fiiftions  rage,  and  inteftins 
divifions  embroil  kingdoms  that  before  were  flourifliing,  Provi- 
dence feems,  at  firft  view,  to  have  abandoned  public  affairs  to  the 
mifrule  of  human  paflions.  Yet  from  the  midft  of  this  confufioa 
©rder  is  often  made  to  fpring;  and  from  ihefe  mifchiefs  lading 
advantages  to  arife.  By  fuch  convulfions,  nations  are  roufed 
from  that  dangerous  lethargy  into  which  flowing  wealth,  loi:g 
peace,  and  growing  effeminacy  of  manners  had  funk  them.  They 
are  awakened  to  difcern  their  true  intereiis;  and  taught  to  tsk® 
proper  meafures  for  fecurity  and  defence  againft  all  tlieir  foes. 
Inveterate  prejudices  are  correded ;  and  latent  fources  of  dan- 
ger are  difccvered.  Public  fpirit  is  called  forth ;  and  larger 
views  of  national  happinefs  are  formed.   The  corruptions  to  which 

every 
*  Pfeilm  evil.  34. 


122  On  the  dhine  Government 

every  government  is  liable,  are  often  rectified  by  a  ferment  in  the 
political  body,  as  noxious  i  uir.oursin  the  animal  frame  are  carri- 
ed off  by  the  fliock  of  a  dileafe.  Attempts  made  againft  a  wife 
and  well-eftabliflied  civil  conllitution  tend  in  the  iffue  to  firength- 
en  it;  and  the  diforders  of  bveiitioufnefs  and  faction,  teach  men 
more  highly  to  prize  the  blclfnigs  of  tranqifiliiiy  and  kgal  pro- 
tedion. 

Fourthly,  the  wrath  nf  nrnti^  when  it  breaks  fcr'h  in  the 
perfecution  of  religion,  prailts  the  divine  gooduels,  by  being  ren- 
dered conducive  to  the  advancement  of  trurh,  and  propagation  of 
religion  in  the  world.  The  church  of  God,  hi;ce  the  days  of  its 
infancy,  hath  never  been  entirely  exempted  from  the  wrath  of 
the  world  ;  and  in  thofe  ages,  during  vvi;ich  it  was  moil  expofcd 
to  that  wrath,  it  h^th  always  fiourifned  the  moft.  In  vain  the 
policy  and  the  rage  of  men  united  their  eiTarts  to  extinguifh  this 
divine  light.  Though  all  the  four  winds  blew  againft  it,  it  only 
flione  brighter,  and  flanied  higher.  M  i^y  ivatef  s  tould  not  qucncb 
it,  nor  all  the  floods  drown  It,  The  conltancy  and  fortitude  of  thofe 
who  fuffered  for  the  truth,  had  a  much  greater  efFtft  in  incrtaf- 
ing  the  number  of  converts,  thati  all  the  terrcur  and  cruelty  of 
pcrfecutors  in  diminiflfing  it.  By  this  means  the  wrath  of  man 
was  made  to  turn  againft  itfelf  to  the  deftruction  of  its  own  j.ur- 
pofe  ;  like  waves,  which  alTaulting  a  rock  with  i;npotent  fuiy, 
difcover  its  immoveable  ftability,  while  they  dafli  themfeives  in 
pieces  at  its  feet. 

I  SHALL  only  add  one  other  inftance  of  the  ^'  wrath  of  man" 
praifing  God,  by  accomplifliing  ends  of  moft  exterfive  benefit  to 
niankind.  Never  did  the  rage  and  n;alice  of  the  wicked  imagine 
that  they  had  obtained  a  more  complete  triu  rph,  than  in  the 
death  of  Jefus  Chrift,  When  they  bad  executed  their  purpofe  of 
making  him  fuffer  as  a  malefactor,  they  were  confident  that  they 
had  extinguiflied  his  name,  and  difcomfired  his  follouers  for  ever. 
Behold  how  feeble  arc  tiieelibrts  cf  the  wrath  of  man  againft  the 
decree  of  Heaven  !  All  that  they  intended  to  overthrow,  they  n oft 
efiectually  eftabliflied.  The  death  of  Chrift  was,  in  the  councils 
of  heaven,  the  fpring  of  everl.ifting  life  to  the  faiihfnl.      liie 


of  the  Pajjions  of  Men.  123 

crofs  on  which  he  fu'Tcred  with  apparent  ignominy,  became  the 
ftandard  of  eternal  honour  to  him  ;  the  enfign  under  which  his 
followers  aflembled,  and  triumphed.  lie  who,  at  his  pleafure, 
'*  retrains  the  remainder  of  wrath,^'  fufTered  the  rage  of  our 
Saviour's  enemies  to  fuggeft  no  other  things  to  them  than  what, 
Jong  before,  He  had  determined,  and  his  prophets  had  foretold. 
They  all  confpired  to  render  the  whole  fcene  of  Chrift's  fuffer- 
ings  exadl'y  conformable  to  the  original  predicted  plan  of  divine 
mercy  and  goodnefs ;  and  each  of  them  contributed  his  fhare  to 
accomplifli  that  great  undertaking,  which  none  of  them  in   the 

leaft  underOood,  or  meant  to  promote. So  remarkable  an  in- 

ftance  as  this,  fully  afcertained  in  Scripture,  of  the  "  wrath  of 
"  man''  miniftering  to  the  defigns  of  Heaven,  ought  to  be  frequent- 
ly in  our  eye  ;  as  an  exemplification  of  the  conduct  of  Providencetin 
many  other  cafes,  where  we  have  not  fo  much  light  afforded  us 
for  tracing  its  ways. 

By  this  indudion  of  particulars,  the  do(5irine  contained  in 
the  text  is  plainly  and  fully  verified.  We  have  feen,  that  the 
diforders  which  the  pride  and  pafTions  of  men  occafion  in  the 
world,  though  they  take  rife  from  the  corruption  of  human  na- 
ture in  this  fallen  flate,  yet  are  fo  over-ruled  by  Providence, 
as  to  redound  to  his  iionour  and  glory  who  governs  all.  They 
illullrate  before  the  world  the  divine  perfedions  in  the  admini- 
flration  of  the  univerfe.  They  ferve  the  purpofes  of  moral  and 
religious  improvement  to  the  fouls  of  men.  By  a  fecret  tenden- 
cy, they  advance  the  welfare  of  thofe  whom  they  appear  to 
threaten  with  evil.  "  Surely,  O  God  !  the  wrath  of  nian  fhall 
'^  praife  thee  ;  the  remainder  of  wrath  fhalt  thou  reftrain.'^ — In 
thy  hand  it  is ;  and  Thou  never  letred  it  forth  but  in  weight  and 
meafure.  It  is  wild  and  intradable  in  its  nature;  but  Thou 
tameft  it.  It  is  blind  and  headlong  in  its  impulfe ;  but  Thou  di- 
redeft  ir.     It  (druggies  continually  t©  break  its  chain  ;  but  Thou 

Gonfineft  it ;  Thou  retrenched  all  the  fuperfiuiry  of  its  fury. 

Let  us  now  confider,    what   improvement  is  to  be  made  of  this 
nieditation  on  the  ways  of  Providence. 

In  the  fird  place,  Let  it  lead  us  to  a  religious  contemplation 

P  of 


124  On  the  divhie  Government 

of  tiie  hand  of  Gotl  in  all  the  tranfaOions  of  the  world.  In  the 
ordinary  courfe  of  human  alFairs,  we  behold  a  very  mixed  and 
bufy  fcene;  the  pafilons  of  men  varioufly  agitated,  and  new 
changes  daily  taking  place  npon  this  ftage  of  time.  We  behold 
peace  and  war  alternately  returning;  the  fortunes  of  private  men 
riling  and  falling;  and  ilates  and  nations  partaking  of  the  fame 
viciilitude.  In  all  this,  if  we  attend  only  to  the  operation  of 
external  ciiufes,  and  to  the  mere  rotation  of  events,  we  view  no 
more  than  the  inanimate  pare  of  nature;  we  flop  at  the  fur- 
fjce  of  things  ;  we  contemplate  the  great  fpedacle  which  is  pre- 
fented  to  us,  not  with  the  eyes  of  rational  and  intelligent  beings. 
The  life  and  beauty  ot  the  univerfe  arifes  from  the  view  of  tha: 
wifdom  and  goodnefs  which  animates  and  conduds  the  whole, 
and  unites  all  the  parts  in  ore  great  defign.  There  is  an  eternal 
Mind  who  puts  all  thofe  wheels  in  motion  ;  Himfelf  remaining 
for  ever  at  reft.  Nothing  is  void  of  God.  Even  in  the  pafTions 
and  ragings  of  men,  He  is  to  be  found  ;  and  where  they  imagine 
they  guide  themfelves,  they  are  guided  and  controlled  by  his 
hand.  What  folemn  thoughts  and  devout  affedions  ought  this 
meditation  to  Infp're  ;  when,  in  viewing  t!ie  affairs  of  the  world, 
we  attend  not  merely  to  the  actings  of  men,  but  to  the  ways  of 
God  ;  and  confider  curfelves,  and  ail  our  concerns,  as  included  in 
his  high  adminiflration. 

In  the  fecond  place.  The  doclrine  which  has  been  illuflrated 
fliculd  prevent  us  from  cenfuring  Providence,  on  account  of  ary 
feennng  difordcrs  and  evils  which  at  preient  take  place  in  the 
world.  The  various  inflances  which  have  been  pointed  cut  in 
this  difcourfe,  of  human  pailion  and  wickednefs  rendered  fubfer- 
vient  to  wife  and  ufeful  ends,  give  us  the  hightfl  reafon  to  con- 
clude, that  in  all  other  cafes  of  feeming  evil,  the  hke  ends  are  car- 
ried on.  This  ought  to  fatisfy  our  mind,  even  when  the  pro- 
fpe»ft  is  moft  dark  and  difcouraging.  The  plans  ot  divine  wifdom 
are  too  large  and  comprchenfive  tobe  difcerned  by  us  in  all  their 
extent  ;  and  where  we  fee  only  by  parrs,  we  muft  frequently  be 
at  a  lofs  in  judging  of  the  whole,  ''  The  way  of  God  is  in  the 
<*  fea,  and  his  path  in  the  great  waters;  his  footfteps  are  not 
*^  known.*     Cut  ahhcugh   then  fnycft  ihcu  cai  A  ret  fee  him, 


*  r/ahu  Ixxvii.    19. 


«'  yet: 


of  the  Pajfions  of  Men.  125 

<^  yet  judgment  is  before  him  ;  therefore  truft  thou  in  him.'^f  As 
in  the  natural  world  no  real  deformity  is  found,  nothing  but 
what  has  either  fome  ornament,  or  fome  ufe  ;  fo  in  the  moral 
world,  the  moft  irregular  and  deformed  appearances  contribute 
in  one  way  or  other  to  the  order  of  the  whole.  The  Supreme 
Being,  from  the  moft  oppofite  and  difagreeing  principles,  forms 
univerlal  concord  ;  and  adapts  even  the  moft  harlh  and  diflbnent 
notes  to  the  harmony  of  his  praife.  As  he  hath  reared  the  good- 
ly  frame  of  nature  from  various  and  jarring  elements,  and  hath 
fettled  it  in  peace  ;  fo  he  hath  formed  fuch  an  union  by  his  pro- 
vidence of  the  more  various  interefts,  and  more  jarring  pafTions  of 
men,  that  they  all  confpire  to  his  glory,  and  co-operate  for  ge- 
neral good. — How  amazing  is  that  wifdom,  which  comprehends 
fuch  infinite  diverfities,  and  contrarieties,  v/ithin  its  fcheme ! 
How  powerful  that  hand,  which  bends  to  its  own  purpofe  the 
good  and  the  bad,  the  bufy  and  the  idle,  the  friends  and  the  foes 
of  truth;  which  obliges  them  all  to  hold  on  their  courfe  to  his 
glory,  though  divided  from  one  another  by  a  multiplicity  of  pur- 
fuits,  and  difreri!)g  often  from  themfelves  ;  and  while  they  ail 
move  at  their  own  freedom,  yet  by  a  fecret  influence,  winds  and 
turns  them  at  his  will !  "  O  the  depth  of  the  riches,  both  of  the 
"  wifdom  and  knowledge  of  God  !  How  unfearchable  are  his 
judgments,  and  his  ways  paft  finding  out!''* 

In  the  third  place,  we  fee,  from  what  has  been  faid,  how  mucli 
reafon  there  is  for  fubruiffion  to  the  decrees  of  Heaven.  What- 
ever diftreifcs  we  fuffer  from  the  wrath  of  man,  \vg  havs 
ground  to  believe  that  they  befal  not  in  vain.  In  the  midfl  of 
hunan  violence  or  opprefTion,  we  are  not  left  to  be  the  fporc  of 
fortune.  Higher  counfels  are  concerned.  Wife  and  good  de- 
flgus  are  going  on.  God  is  always  carrying  forward  his  own  pur- 
pofes ;  and  if  thefe  terminate  in  his  glory,  which  is  ever  the  fame 
with  the  felicity  of  the  righteous,  is  not  this  a  fufficient  reafon 
for  our  calm  and  cheerful  scquiefcence  ? 

Hence  alfo,  to  conclude,  arifes  the  moft  powerful  argument 
for  ftudying,  with  zealous  afiiduity,  to  gain  the  favour  and  pro- 
teclion  of  the  Ahnighty.     If  his  difpleafure  hang  over  our  heads, 

all 
f  Job)  sxxv.  14.  *  R^m,  xi,  ^Z' 


126  On  the  divine  Government ,  ^c. 

all  things  around  us  may  be  juft  objeds  of  terrour.  For,  againft 
him,  there  is  no  defence.  The  moft  violent  powers  in  nature  are 
niinifters  to  him.  Formidable,  indeed,  may  prove  the  wrath  of 
man,  if  he  be  pleafed  to  let  it  forth  againft  us.  To  him,  but 
not  to  us,  it  belongs  to  reftrain  it  at  pleafure.  Whereas,  when 
we  are  placed  under  his  proteclion,  all  human  wrath  is  divefted 
of  its  terrours.  *'  If  he  be  for  us,  who,  or  what  can  be  againft 
*'  us?''  Let  us  purfue  the  meafures  which  he  hath  appointed  for 
obtaining  his  grace  by  faith,  repentance,  and  a  holy  life,  and  we 
fhall  have  no  reafon  to  be  **  afraid  of  evil  tidings ;  our  hearts 
**  will  be  fixed,  trufting  in  the  Lord."  When  the  religious  fear 
of  God  poflefies  the  heart,  it  expels  the  ignoble  fear  of  man;  and 
becomes  the  principle  of  courage  and  magnanimity.  The  Lord  is  a 
buckler  and  a  JJoield  to  them  that  fervehim,  *'  When  he  arifeth, 
**  his  enemies  ftiall  be  Icattered,  as  fmoke  is  driven  away,  and  as 
^<  chaff  before  the  wind,  He  giveth  ftrength  and  victory  to  his 
"  people ;  he  clotheth  them  with  falvation.  The  wrath  of  man 
'*  Ihall  praife  him  5  and  the  remainder  of  wrath  fliall  he  reftrain.'^ 


SERMON 


C     127     ] 

SERMON       XXX. 

On    the    Importance    of   Religious    Know- 
ledge to   Mankind. 

Preached  before  the  Society  in  Scotland  for  propagating  Chrif- 
tian  Knowledge. 

Isaiah,     xi.  9. 

They  fhali  not  hurt  nor  dejlroy  In  all  my  holy  mountain ;  for  the 
earth  frail  he  jull  of  the  knowlec^ge  of  the  Lord,  as  the  waters  co- 
ver the  fea. 

THIS  pafTage  of  Scripture  is  underftood,  by  all  Chriftian  in- 
terpreters, to  refer  to  the  days  of  the  Gofpel.  The  Pro- 
phet defcribes  in  the  context,  the  aufpicious  influence  of  the 
MefTiah's  reign,  as  extending  over  all  nature,  and  producing 
univerfal  felicity.  The  full  accomphfliment  of  this  prediction  is 
yet  future,  and  refpedls  fome  more  advanced  period  of  the  king- 
dom of  God,  when  true  religion  fhall  univerfally  prevail,  and  the^ 
native  tendency  of  the  Gofpel  attain  its  entile  efFed.  In  the  pro- 
fped  of  this  event,  the  Prophet  feems  to  rife  above  himfelf,  and 
celebrates  that  happy  age  in  the  moft  fublime  (train  of  eaftern 
poetry.  He  opens  a  beautiful  view  of  the  ftate  of  the  world,  as 
a  flate  of  returning  innocence.  He  reprefents  all  nature  flourifli- 
ing  peace  ;  difcord  and  guile  abolifhed  ;  the  moft  hoftile  natures 
reconciled,  and  the  moft  favage  reformed  and  tamed.  '*  The 
*'  wolf  fnall  dwell  with  the  lamb,  and  the  leopard  lie  down  with 
**  the  kid  ;  and  the  calf,  and  the  young  lion,  and  the  falling  to- 
*«  gether,  and  a  little  child  fhall  lead  them.  The  lion  fliall  eat 
*'  ftraw  like  the  ox  ;  and  the  fuckling  child  fhall  play  on  the  hole 
^'  of  th€  afp,  and  the  weaned  child  fhall  put  his  hand  on  the  cock- 
atrice 


.128  On  the  Importance  of 

*'  atrice  den.  They  fiiall  not  hurt  nor  deflroy  in  all  my  holy 
*'  mountain  ;  for  the  earth  fliall  be  fuil  of  the  knowledge  of 
*'  the  Lord,  us  the  waters  cover  the  fea/' 

Upon  reading  theie  words  we  nniit  immediately  perceive  the 
great  encouragement  which  they  give  to  all  good  defigns  for  pro- 
moting religion  in  the  world.  ^Vhen  we  engage  in  thefe,  we 
liave  the  comfort  of  being  engaged,  not  only  in  a  good  caufe, 
but  alfo  in  one  tliat  fliall  undoubtedly  be  futcefsful.  For  we  are 
Jiere  afTured  by  the  divine  promife,  that  truth  and  riglueoufncfs 
fhall  at  length  prevail,  and  that  the  incrcafing  influence  of  reli- 
gion fliall  introduce  general  happincfs.  It  is  a  pleafmg  and  ani- 
mating refitdioii,  that,  in  carrying  on  fuch  defigns,  we  aft  upon 
ihe  divine  plan  ;  and  co-operate  with  God  for  advancing  the 
kingdom  of  tiie  Melhah.  We  have  no  reafon  to  be  difcouraged 
by  any  unfavourable  circum{lan<  es  which  at  prefent  oppofe  our  pi- 
ous endeavours.  I'hough  tlie  ignorance,  fuperflition  and  cor- 
ruption, which  now  fill  fo  great  a  part  of  the  world,  have  a  dark 
;ind  myfterious  afpccl,  it  i&  not  beyond  the  power  of  that  Supreme 
I3eing  who  brings  light  out  of  darknefs,  to  clear  up  thofe  per- 
plexing appearances,  and  gradually  to  oaricate  mankind  from  the 
l&byrinth  of  ignorance  and  errour.  Let  us  confidcr  how  impro- 
bable it  Itemed,  when  the  Gofpel  was  firfl  publiflied,  that  it 
ihould  extend  fo  far,  and  overthrow  fo  nmch  eftablifhed  fuperfli- 
tion £s  it  has  already  done.  There  is  nothing,  in  the  prefent 
flate  of  the  world,  to  render  it  more  unlikely  that  it  fliall  cue 
day  be  univerfally  received,  and  prevail  in  its  full  influence.  At 
the  rife  of  Chriftianity,  the  difproportion  was,  at  leaft,  as  great 
between  the  apparent  human  caufes,  and  the  e{^e.6i  which  has  ac- 
tually been  produced,  as  there  is,  in  our  age,  betv.'een  thecircum- 
ftanccs  of  religion  in  the  world,  and  the  effeft  which  we  farther 
exped.  The  Sun  of  right eoufncfs  having  already  exerted  its  in- 
fluence in  breaking  through  the  thickelf  darknefs,  we  may  juftly 
hope,  that  it  is  powerful  enough  to  dilpel  all  remaining  obfcurity  ; 
and  that  it  will  afcend  by  degrees  to  that  perfeft  day,  when  heal- 
ing  fJmll  he  under  its  wings  to  all  the  nations.  "  A  litile  one  fliall  be- 
**  come  a  thoufand  ;  and  a  fmall  one,  a  ftronp  nation.  I  the 
"  Lord  will  haden  it  in  its  time/'J 

Besides 
1  Ifaiah^  Ix.  22. 


Relighus   Kno-vlaige  to  Mankind^  \i() 

Besides  the  preJiiftion  which  the  text  contain',  of  the  future 
fiiccefs  of  religion,  it  points  out  alfoa  precife  connexion  hctueea 
the  increafe  of  religious  knowledge,  and  the  happinefs  of  man- 
kind. The  kmwleclge  of  the  Lord  filhng  the  earth,  is  sfligned  as 
the  caufe  why  they  ft)  a! I  not  hurt  nor  dejiroy  In  all  the  holy  mountain 
of  God.  To  this  I  am  now  to  lead  your  thoughts  ;  as  a  rnhjed 
both  fuited  to  the  occafion  of  the  prefent  meeting,  and  proper 
to  be  illuflrated  in  times,  wherein  total  indifference  to  religious 
principles  appears  to  gain  ground.  Whether  Chriflianity  (hall  be 
propagated  farther  or  not,  is  treated  as  a  matter  of  no  great  con- 
cern to  mankind.  The  opinion  prevails  among  many,  that  mo- 
ral virtue  may  fubfifl,  with  equal  advantage,  independent  of  re- 
ligion. For  moral  printiples  great  regard  is  profelTed  ;  but  arti- 
cles of  religious  belief  are  held  to  be  abdraci:  tenets,  remote  from 
life  ;  points  of  mere  fpecnlation  and  debate,  the  influence  of 
which  is  very  inconfiderable  on  the  actions  of  men.  The  gene- 
ral condud,  it  is  contended,  will  always  proceed  upon  views  and 
principles  which  have  more  relation  to  the  prefent  (late  of  things  ; 
and  religious  knowledge  can  therefore  (land  in  no  neceiTary  con- 
nexion   with   their    happinefs   and  profperiiy. How    adverfe 

fuch  opinions  are  both  to  the  profefl'on  and  pradice  of  religion,, 
is  abundantly  evident.  How  adverfe  they  are  to  the  genend 
welfare  antl  real  interelts  of  mankind,  I  hope  to  make  appear  to 
candid  minds. 

By  the  knowledge  of  the  Lcrd  in  the  text,  is  not  to  be  unJenl-ood 
the  natural  knowledge  of  God  only.  It  is  plain  that  the  Prophet 
fpeaks  of  the  age  of  the  Meffiah,  when  more  enlarged  difcoverics 
(hould  be  made  to  mankind  of  the  divine  perfecfticns  and  govern- 
ment, than  unaiTifted  reafon  could  sttain.  The  know/edae  r.f  the 
Lord,  therefore,  com.prehends  the  principles  of  Chriflianity,  as- 
well  as  of  natural  religion.  In  order  to  difcern  the  importance 
of  fuch  knowledge  to  general  happinefs,  we  Hiiil  conHJer  ma»i, 
I.  as  an  individual  ;    II.  as  a  member  of  fotiety. 

I.  Co\sir3RRiNG  man  as  an  individual,  let  u>  enquTC  ho\^ 
far  the  knowledge  of  true  religion  is  important,  finl,  to  his  im- 
provement; next,    to  his  confobilon. 

First, 


13^  On  the  Importance  of 

Fi  RST,  With  refped:  to  the  improvement  of  man  ;  the  advance=r 
ment  of  his  nature  in  what  is  valuable  and  ufeful,  tiie  acquifition 
of  fuch  difpofitions  and  habits  as  fit  him  for  ading  his  part  with 
propriety  on  this  fiage,  and  prepare  him  for  a  higher  ftate  of  ac- 
tion hereafter  ;  what  benefit  does  he  receive,  in  the(e  relpe<fls, 
from  religious  knowledge  and  belief  ?  It  is  obvious,  that  all  in- 
creafe  of  knowledge  is  improvement  to  the  underftanding.  The 
more  that  its  fphere  is  enlarged,  the  greater  number  of  objedts 
that  are  fubmitted  to  its  view,  efpecially  v/hen  thefe  obje6ls  are 
of  intrinfic  excellence,  the  more  muft  thofe  rational  powers^ 
vshich  are  the  glory  of  man,  be  in  the  courfe  of  attaining  their 
proper  ftrength  and  maturity.  But  were  the  knowledge  of  religion 
merely  fpecul^tive,  though  the  fpeculation  mufl  be  admitted  to  be 
noble,  yet  lefs  could  be  faidof  its  importance.  We  recommend  ic 
to  mankind,  as  forming  the  heart,  and  direfling  the  life.  Thofe 
pure  and  exalted  conceptions  which  the  Chriftian  religion  has 
taught  us  to  entertain  of  the  Deity,  as  the  univerfal  Father  and 
righteous  Governour  of  the  univerfe,  the  Standard  of  unfpotted 
perfection  ;  and  the  Juthor  of  every  good  and  ferjefi  gift  ;  con- 
ducting his  whole  adminiih-ation  with  an  eternal  regard  to  order, 
virtue,  and  truth ;  ever  favouring  the  caufe,  and  fupporting  the 
interefis,  of  righteous  men  ;  and  applying,  in  this  dire(5lion,  the 
whole  might  of  omnipotence,  and  the  whole  council  of  unerring 
"ivifdom,  from  the  beginning  to  the  end  of  things;  fuch  concep- 
tions both  kindle  devotion,  and  ftrengthen  virtue.  They  give 
fortitude  to  the  mind  in  thepraftice  of  righteoufnefs^  and  eftabJifh 
the  perfuafion  of  its  beiiig  our  higheft  intereft. 

All  the  docT:rines  peculiar  to  the  Gofpel  are  great  improvements 
on  what  the  light  of  nature  had  imperfectly  fuggeftod.  A  high 
difpenfation  of  Providence  is  made  known,  particularly  fuited  to 
the  exigencies  of  man  ;  calculated  for  recovering  him  from  that 
corrupted  flare  into  which  experience  bears  wirnefs  that  he  is 
fallen,  and  for  rt'lioring  him  to  integrity,  and  favour  with  his 
Creator.  The  method  of  carrying  on  this  great  plan  is  fuch  as 
gives  us  the  moll:  ffriking  views  of  the  importance  of  righteouf. 
nefs  or  virtue,  and  of  the  high  account  in  which  it  ftands  with 
God.  The  Son  of  God  appeared  on  the  earth,  and  fuffered  as  a 
propitiation  for  the  fins  of  iiie  world,  with  thisexprefs  intention^, 

that 


Reftghits  Knowledge  to  Mankind.  131 

that  he  might  bring  in  everlajiing  nghteoufuefs ;  tliat  he  n)io;ht 
purge  our  confciences  from  decid  works  to  Jervs  the  llv'wg  Cod ;  that 
he  niiglic  "  redeem  us  from  all  iniquity,  and  purify  unto  himfelf 
<^  a  peculiar psopls  zealous  of  good  works.'*  Such  a  merciful  in- 
terpofition  of  the  Creator  of  the  world,  while  it  illuftriouily  dif- 
plays  his  goodnefs,  and  fignalizes  his  concern  for  the  moral  inter- 
efts  of  mankind,  affords  us,  at  the  fame  time,  the  molt  faiisfying 
ground  of  confidence  and  truft.  It  offers  an  object  to  the  mind 
on  which  it  can  lay  hold  for  the  fecurity  of  its  future  hopes ; 
when,  with  a  certainty  far  beyond  what  any  abftraft  argument 
could  yield,  it  appeals  to  a  diftinguifhed  fad;  and  is  enabled  to 
fay,  "  He  that  fpared  not  his  own  Son,  but  delivered  him  up 
"  for  us  all,  how  (hall  he  not  with  him  alfo  freely  give  us  all. 
things  V* 

While  the  divine  government  is  thus  placed  in  a  light  the  moH: 
amiable,  and  mofi  encouraging  to  every  virtuous  mind,  there  is 
at  the  fame  time  fomething  extremely  awful  and  folemn  in  the 
whole  do(ftrine  of  redemption.  It  is  calculated  to  (Irike  the 
mind  with  reverence  for  the  divine  adminiftration.  It  points  at 
fonie  deep  malignity  in  fm,  at  ibme  dreadful  confequences  flow- 
ing from  guilt,  unknown  in  their  caufes  and  in  their  whole  effecfts 
to  us,  which  moved  the  Sovereign  of  the  world  to  depart  from 
the  ordinary  courle  of  Providence,  and  to  bring  about  the  le- 
ftoration  of  his  f:illen  creatures  by  a  method  fo  aftonifhino-. 
Mankind  are  hereby  awakened  to  the  moil  ferious  refiedions. 
Such  views  are  opened  of  the  fandity  of  the  divine  lav/s,  of  the 
ftridtnefs  of  the  divine  juftice,  of  the  importance  of  the  part 
which  is  affigned  them  to  a6f,  as  ferve  to  prevent  their  trifling 
with  human  life,  and  add  dignity  and  folemnity  to  virtue.  Thefe 
great  purpofes  are  farther  carried  on,  by  the  difcovery  which  is 
made  of  the  fixed  connexion  in  which  this  life  flands  with  a  fu- 
ture eternal  (late.  We  are  reprefented  ^s /owing  now,  what  we 
are  to  reap  hereafter  ;  uudergoing  a  courfe  of  probation  and  trial, 
which,  according  as  it  terminates  in  our  improvement,  or  leaves 
us  unreformed  and  corrupted,  will  difmifs  us  to  laftii'g  abodes,  ei- 
ther of  punifhment  or  reward.  Such  a  difcovery  riles  far  above 
the  dubious  conjeclures,  and  uncertain  reafonings,    which  mere 

Q^  natural 

*  R^m.  viii.    32. 


1^2  On  the  Importance  of 

natural  light  fnggefts  concerning  the  future  condition  of  mankind. 
Here  we  find,  what  alone  can  produce  any  confiderable  influence 
on  praflice,  cxphcit  proiiiife  and  threatening  ;  an  authoritative 
fanction  given  to  a  law  ;  the  Governour  and  Judge  revealed  ;  and 
all  the  motives  which  can  operate  on  hope  and  fear,  brought 
home  to  the  heart,  with  Thus/aid  the  Lord  of  Hofls.  In  a  v^  ord, 
a  great  and  magnilicent  plan  of  divine  adminiftration  is  opened  to 
us  in  the  Gofpel  of  Chrift  ;  and  nothing  is  omitted  that  can  im- 
prefs  mankind  with  the  perfuafion  of  their  being  all,  in  the 
AriJteii  fenfe,  fubjec^s  of  the  moral  government  of  God. 

Though  the  bonds  of  this  Difcourfe  allow  us  to  take  only  3« 
iinperfed  view  of  the  principles  of  Chriftian  do6lrine,  yet  the 
hints  which  have  been  given,  lay  a  fufficient  foundation  for  ap- 
pealing to  every  impartial  mind,  whether  the  knowledge  and 
belief  of  fuch  principles  be  not  intimately  conncdled  with  the 
improvement,  and,  by  confequcnce,  with  the  happinefs  of  man  ? 
I  reafon  now  with  luch  as  admit,  that  virtue  is  the  great  fource 
both  of  improvement  and  happinefs.  Let  them  lay  w  hat  flrefo  ihey 
pleafe  iipon  the  authority  of  confcience,  and  upon  the  force  and 
evidence  of  its  dictates  ;  can  they  refufe  to  allow  that  the  na- 
tural tendency  of  the  principles  which  I  have  mentioned,  is  to 
fupport  thofe  dictates,  and  to  confirm  that  authority  ;  to  excite, 
on  various  occafions,  the  inoft  ufeful  fentiments  ;  to  provide  addi- 
tional reftraints from  vice,  and  additional  motives  to  every  virtue? 
Who  dares  pronounce,  that  there  is  no  cafe  in  which  confcience 
(lands  in  need  of  fuch  afhltance  to  dircifl^,  where  there  is  fo  much 
uncertainty  and  darknefs  ;  and  to  pronipt,  where  there  is  fo  much 
feeblenefs  and  irrefolution,  and  fuch  a  fatal  pronenefs  to  vice  and 
folly  ? 

But  how  good  foever  the  tendency  of  religious  principles  may 
be,  fome  will  ftill  call  in  queftion  their  adual  fignificancy,  and 
influence  on  life.  This  tendency  is  by  various  caufes  defeated. 
Between  the  belief  of  religious  principles  and  a  correfpondenx 
praflice,  it  willbe  alledged  that  frequent  experience  fliews  there  is 
no  neceflary  connexion;  and  that  therefore  the  propagation  of 
the  one,  cannot  give  us  any  alTurance  of  proportionable  improve- 
ments following  in  the  other. — This,  in  part^  is  granted  to  be 

true  ; 


Religious  Knowledge  to  Mankind,  i-i^ 

tme  ;  as  we  admit  that  religious  knowledfre  and  belief  are  fufcep- 
tible  of  various  degrees,  before  they  arrive  at  that  real  Chriftian 
faith  which  the  Scripture  reprelents  as  purlfing  the  heart.  But 
though  the  connexion  between  principle  and  pradice  be  not  ne- 
ceiTary  and  invariable,  it  will  not,  I  fuppofe,  be  denied,  that 
there  is  fome  connexion.  Here  then  one  avenue  to  the  heart  is 
opened.  If  the  tendency  of  religious  knowledge  be  good,  wif- 
dom  muft  direct,  and  duty  oblige  us  to  cultivate  it.  For  tenden- 
cy will,  at  leaft  in  fome  cafes,  rife  into  e^e^  ;  and,  probably,  ia 
more  cafes  than  are  known  and  obferved  by  the  world.  Befides 
the  diftinguilhed  examples  of  true  religion  and  virtue  which  have, 
more  or  lei's,  adorned  every  age  of  the  Chridian  aera,  what  num- 
bers may  there  be,  in  the  more  filent  and  private  fcenes  of  life, 
overlooked  by  fuperficial  obfervers  of  mankind,  on  whofe  hearts 
and  lives  religious  principles  have  the  mod  happy  influence  ? 
Even  on  loofe  and  giddy  minds,  where  they  are  far  from  accom- 
plifliing  their  full  effed:,  their  influence  is,  frequently,  not  altoge- 
ther lort.  Itnprellions  of  religion  often  check  vice  in  its  career. 
They  prevent  it  from  proceeding  its  utmoft  length ;  and  though 
they  do  not  entirely  reform  the  offender,  they  ferve  to  maintain 
order  in  fociety,  Perfons  who  are  now  bad,  might  probably 
have  been  worfe  without  them,  and  the  world  havefuffered  more 
from  unreflrained  licentioufnefs.  They  often  fow  latet-t  feeds  of 
goodnefs  in  the  heart,  which  proper  circumftances  and  occafions 
afterwards  ripen  ;  though  the  reformation  of  the  ofFt  iider  may 
not  be  fo  confpicuous  as  his  former  enormities  have  been.  From 
the  native  tendency  of  religious  belief,  there  is  reafon  to  conclude, 
that  thofe  good  effects  of  it  are  not  fo  rare  as  fome  would  repre- 
fent  them.  By  its  nature  and  tendency,  we  can  belter  judire  of 
its  eifeds,  than  by  obfervations  drawn  from  a  fuppofed  experience, 
which  often  is  narrow  in  its  compafs,  and  fallacious  in  its  conclufions. 
The  a6tual  influence  of  principle  and  belief  on  mankind,  ad- 
mits of  clear  illullration  from  uncowtefted  matter  of  fad.  They 
who  hold  the  good  effeds  of  Chriftian  principles  to  be  fo  incoiifi- 
derable,  as  to  render  the  propagation  of  thim  of  fmall  impor- 
tance, will  be  at  no  lofs  to  give  us  inflances  of  corrupt  principles 
of  belief  having  had  the  moft  powerful  influence  on  the  world. 
Loud  complaints  we  hear  from  this  quarter  of  the  direfu'  effeds 

which 


134  ^-^^  i^^^  Impart  a  fice  of 

which   fupcrflition  and  enthufiafra  have  produced  ;  of  their  hav- 
ing poifoncd  the  tempers,  and  transformed  ihe  manners  of  men  ; 
of  their  having  overcome  the  ftrongeft  rellraints  of  law,  of  rea- 
fon,  and  humanity.     Is  this  then  the  cafe,    that   all   principles, 
except  good  ones,    are  of  fuch  mighty  energy  ?    Strange  !    that 
falfe  religion  (hould  be  able  to  do  fo  much,  and  true  religion  fo 
little  ;   that  belief,  fo  powerful  in  the  one  cafe,  fliculd  be  fo  impo- 
tent in  the  other. — No  impartial  inquirer,  furely,  can  entertain  this 
opinion.     The  whole  hiftory  of  mankind  Ihows  that  their  religi- 
ous  tenets  and  principles,  of  whatever   nature  they  be,  are  of 
great  influence  in  forming  their  charadler,  and    direding  their 
conducT:.     The  mifchief  which  falfe  principles  have  done,  affords 
a  good  argument  to  guard  carefully  againft  errour  ;  but  as  it  is 
a  proof  of  what  belief  can  do,  it  gives  ground  to  hope  the  more 
from  ir,  when  rightly  dire6ted.     The  fame  torrent  which,  when 
it  is  put   out  of  its  natural  courfe,  overflows  and  lays  wafie  a 
country,    adorns  and  enriches  it,    when    running  in  lis  proper 
channel.     If  it  be  alledged  that  fuperiiition  is  likely  to  be  more 
powerful  in  its  elFecls  than  truth,  becaufe  it  agrees  better  with  the 
follies  and   corruptions  of  the  world,  we  may  oppofe  to  this,    on 
the  other  hand,  that  truth  has  the  divine  blefling  and  the  counte- 
nance of  Heaven  on  its  iide.     Let  us  always  hope  well  of  a  caufe 
that  is  good  in  itfelf,  and  beneficial  to  mankind.     Trutii  is  migh- 
ty,   and  will  prevail.     Let   us    fpread    the  hicjrruptible  feed  as 
widely  as  we  can,  and  trud  in  God  that  he  will  give  the  increafc. 
Having  thus  fnewn  the  importance  of   religious   knowledge   to 
mankind  in  the  way  of  improvement,  let  us, 

In  the  fecond  place,  confider  it  in  the  lignt  of  confolation  ;  as 
bringing  aid  and  relief  to  us  amidfl  the  dillreffes  of  life.  Here 
religion  incontcA.ibly  triumphs  ;  and  its  happy  efft:6ls,  in  this  re- 
i^^t^,  furnilii  a  Itrong  ai-gument  to  every  benevolent  mind  for 
wilhing  them  to  be  farther  diffufed  throughout  the  world.  For 
without  the  belief  and  hope  afforded  by  divine  Revelation,  the 
circumffances  of  man  are  extremely  forlorn.  He  finds  himfelf 
placed  here  as  a  nrangcr  in  a  vaft  univerfe,  where  the  powers 
and  operations  'of  nature  are  very  imperfedly  known  ;  where 
both  the  beginnings  ar^d  the  ilRies  of  things  are  involved  in  myl- 

terioas 


Rdigious  Knowledge  to  Mankind.  135 

terious  darknefs  ;  where  he  is  unable  to  difcover,  with  any  cer- 
tainty, whence  he  fprung,  or  for  what  purpofe  he  was  brought 
into  this  ftate  of  exiftence  ;  whether  he  be  fubjeded  to  the  go- 
vernment of  a  mild,  or  of  a  wrathful  ruler  ;  what  conftruclion 
he  is  to  put  on  many  of  his  difpenfations  of  the  providence  ;  and 
what  his  fate  is  to  be  when  he  departs  hence.  What  a  difconfo- 
late  fii nation  to  a  ferious  inquiring  mind  !  The  greater  degree 
of  virtue  it  poITelFes,  its  fenfibility  is  likely  to  be  the  more  op- 
prefled  by  this  burden  of  labouring  thought.  Even  though  it 
were  in  one's  power  to  banifli  all  uneafy  thought,  and  to  fill  up 
the  hours  of  life  with  perpetual  amufement,  life  fo  filled  up  would, 
upon  refledion,  appear  poor  and  trivial.  But  thefe  are  far  from 
being  the  terms  upon  which  man  is  brought  into  this  world.  He 
is  confcious  that  his  being  is  frail  and  feeble  ;  he  fees  himfelf  be- 
fet'  with  various  dangers ;  and  is  expofed  to  many  a  melancholy 
apprehenfion,  from  the  evils  which  he  may  have  to  encounter, 
before  he  arrives  at  the  clofe  of  life.  Jn  this  diftreffed  condi- 
tion, to  reveal  to  him  fuch  difcoveries  of  the  Supreme  Being  as 
the  Chriftian  religion  affords,  is  to  reveal  to  him  a  Father  and 
a  Friend  ;  is  to  let  in  a  ray  of  the  moH:  cheering  light  upon  the 
darknefs  of  the  human  edate.  He  who  was  before  adeftitute  or- 
phan, wandering  in  the  inhofpitable  defert,  has  now  gained  a 
fhelter  from  the  bitter  and  inclement  blaft.  He  now  knows  to 
rvhom  to  pray,  and  in  whom  to  truft  ;  where  tounbofom  hisfor- 
rows  ;  and  trom  what  hand  to  look  for  relief. 

It  is  certain,  that  when  the  heart  bleeds  from  fome  wound  of 
recent  misx^ortune,  nothing  is  of  equal  efficacy  with  religious  com- 
fort. It  is  of  power  to  enlighten  the  darkeft  hour,  and  to  alTuao-e 
the  fevered  woe,  by  the  belief  of  divine  favour,  and  the  prof- 
peel  of  a  bleffed  immortality.  In  fuch  hopes  the  mind  expatiates 
with-joy  ;  and,  when  bereaved  of  its  earthly  friends,  folaces  it- 
felf  With  the  thoughts  of  one  Friend,  who  vv/ill  never  forfake  it. 
Refined  reafonings  concerning  the  nature  of  the  human  condi- 
tion, and  the  improvement  which  philofophy  teaches  us  to  make 
of  every  event,  may  entertain  the  mind  when  it  is  at  eafe  ;  may 
perhaps  contribute  to  footh  it  when  (lightly  touched  with  forrow. 
But  when  it  is  torn  with  any  fore  diftrefs,  they  are  cold  and  fee- 
ble,   coaipared   with  a   direct  proiiiife   from  the  word  ot  God. 

This 


136  On  the  Importance  of 

This  is  r,n  anchor  to  thsj^jul  boih/ure  and Jledjafl,  This  has  given 
confolation  and  refuge  to  many  a  virtuous  heart,  at  a  time  when 
the  moll  cogent  reafonings  would  have  proved  utterly  unavailing. 
Upon  the  approach  of  death,  efpecially  when,  if  a  man  thinks 
at  all,  his  anxiety  about  his  future  interefts  niuft  naturally  in- 
creafe,  the  power  of  religious  confolation  is  fenfibly  felt.  Then 
appears,  in  the  mod  ftriking  light,  the  high  value  of  the  difcove- 
ries  made  by  the  Gofpel  ;  not  only  life  and  iminortality  revealed, 
but  a  Mediator  with  God  difcovered  ;  mercy  proclaimed,  through 
him,  to  the  frailties  of  the  penitent  and  the  humble;  and  bis  pre- 
fence  promifed  to  be  with  them  when  they  are  paffing  through  the 
valiey  of  iheJJwdow  of  death,  in  order  to  bring  them  fafe  into  un- 
feen  habitations  of  reft  and  joy.  Here  is  ground  for  their  leaving 
the  world  with  comfort  and  peace.  Eutin  this  fevere  and  trying 
period,  this  labouring  hour  of  nature,  how  (liall  the  unhappy  man 
fupport  hirnfelf,  who  knows  not,  or  believes  not,  the  difcoveries 
of  religion  ?  Secretly  confcious  to  himfeif  that  he  has  not  acled 
his  part  as  he  ought  to  have  done,  the  fins  of  his  paft  life  arife 
before  him  in  fad  remembrance.  He  wiflies  to  exift  after  death, 
arid  yet  dreads  that  exiftence.  The  Governour  of  the  world  is 
unknown.  He  cannot  tell  wheth^^r  every  endeavour  to  obtain 
his  mercy  may  not  be  vain.  All  is  awful  obfeurity  around  him  ; 
and  in  the  midft  of  endlefs  doubtsand  perplexities,  the  trembling, 
reluclant  foul  is  forced  away  from  the  body.  As  the  misfortunes 
of  life  muft,  to  fuch  a  man,  have  been  moft  opprefTive,  fo  its  end 
is  better.  His  fun  fets  in  a  dark  cloud  ;  and  the  night  of  death 
clofes  over  his  head,  full  of  mifery. — Having  now  fliewn  how' 
important  the  knowledge  of  the  Lord  is,  both  to  the  improvement 
and  the  confolation  of  man,  confidered  as  an  individual,  I  am 
next  to  fiiew, 

II,  How  important  this  knowledge  is  to  him  as  a  member  of 
fociety.  This  branch  of  the  fubjeft  is  in  part  anticipated  by  what 
has  been  faid.  For  all  the  improvement  which  man  receives  as 
an  individual,  redounds  to  the  benefit  of  the  public.  Society 
reaps  the  fruit  of  the  virtuous  of  all  the  members  who  compole 
it  ;  and  in  proportion  as  each,  apart,  is  made  better,  the  whole 
iimCt  flour ifh. 

But 


Religious  Knoijuledge  to  Mankind,  I  j; 

But  befides  this  effed:,  religious  knowledge  has  a  clirecl  ten- 
dency to  improve  the  Ibcial  intercourfe  cf  men,  and  to  affift  theiri 
in  co-operating  for  comnion  good.     It  is  the  great  i^iarnnient  of 
civilizing  the  multitude,  and  forming  ihem  to  union.     It   tames 
the  fiercenefs  of  tlieir  paiiions,  and  foftens  the  rudenefs  of  their 
manners.     There  is  much  reafon  to  doubt  whether   zny  reoujar 
fociety  ever  fubfifted,  or  could  fubfjli,  in  the  world,  deiUruie  of 
all  religious  ideas  and   principles.     They  who,    in  early  times, 
attempted  to  bring  the  wandering  and  fcattered  tribes  of  men 
from   the  woods,  and  to  unite   them  in  cities  and  comiiumiries, 
always  found  it  neceilary  to  begin  with  fume   inUitution  of  reli- 
gion.    The  wifeft  legiHators  of  old,  through  the  whole  progrefs 
of  their  fyftems  of  government,  confidered  religion  as  effentiai  to 
civil  polity.     If  even  thofe  imperfea  forms  of  it,  loaded  with  fo 
much  fuperftition  and  errour,  were  important  to  the  welfare  of 
fociety,  how  much  more  that  reafonable  woriliipof  the  true  God, 
which  is  taught  by  the  Gofpel  ?   True  religion  introduces  the 
idea  of  regular  fubjeclion,  by  accuftoming  mankind  to  the  awe  of 
fuperiour  power  in  the  Deity,  joined  with  the  veneration  of  fu- 
periour  wifdom  and  goodnefs.     It  is  by  its  nature  an  alTociating 
principle ;  and  creates  new  and  facred  bonds  of  union  among  men. 
Common  aflemblies  for  religious  wodhip,  and  joint  homage  offer- 
ed up  to  one  God  ;  the  fenfe  of  being  all  dependent  on  the  faiiie 
protedion,  and  bound  to  duty  by  the  fame  ties,   Iharers  in  the 
fame  benefits  of  heaven,   and  expedtants  of  the   fame  reward 
tend  to  awaken   the  fentiments  of  friendly  relation,  and  to  con ' 
firm   and  firengthen  our   mutual    connexion.     The  doftrine  of 
Chriftianity  is  moft  adverfe  to  all  tyranny  and   opprefiion,   but 
highly  favourable  to  the  interefts  of  good  government  among 
men.     It  reprefles  the  fpirit  of  licentioulnefs  and  fedition.     It 
inculcates  the  duty  of  fubordination  to  lawful  fuperiours.     It  re- 
quires  us  to  fear  Cod,  to  honour  the  king,  and  not  to  meddle  with 
them  that  are  given  to  change. 

Religious  knowledge  forwards  all  ufeful  and  ornamental  im- 
provements in  fociety.  Experience  (hows,  that,  in  proportioa 
as  it  diffufes  its  light,  learning  flouriHies,  and  liberal  arts  are  cul- 
tivated and  advanced.  Juft  conceptions  of  religion  promote  a 
free  and  manly  fpirir.     They  lead  men  to  think  for  themfelves; 


ts 


T38  On  ihe  Imparlance  of 

to  form  their  principles  upon  fair  enquiry,  and  net  to  refign  their 
confeience  to  the  dictates  of  men.  Hence  they  naturally  infpire 
averfion  to  flavery  of  every  kind  ;  and  promote  a  talle  for  liber- 
ty aF:d  hws.  Defpotic  governments  have  ge;ierally  taken  the 
firmeft  root  air.ong  nations  that  where  blinded  by  Mahometan  or 
Pa^an  darkntfs  ;  where  the  throne  of  violence  has  been  fupport- 
ed  by  ignorance  and  falfe  religion.  In  the  Chriftian  world,  dur- 
ing thole  centuries  in  which  grols  fuperitiiiun  held  its  reign  un- 
difturbed,  cpprelTion  and  flavery  v.ere  in  its  train.  The  cloud  of 
ignorance  fat  thick  and  deep  over  tlie  nations;  and  the  world 
v/as  threatened  with  a  relapfe  into  ancient  barbarity.  As  foon 
as  the  true  knowledge  of  the  Lord  revived,  at  the  aufpicious  sra  of 
the  Retormation,  learning,  liberty,  and  arts,  began  to  lliine 
forth  with  it,  and  to  relume  their  luftre. 

But  the  happy  influence  which  religion  exerts  on  fociety,  ex- 
tends much  farther  than  to  etFecls  of  this  kind.  It  is  not  only 
fubfidiary  to  the  improvement,  but  neceffary  to  the  prefervation 
of  fociety.  It  is  the  very  bafis  on  which  it  refts.  Religious  prin- 
ciple is  what  gives  men  the  fureft  hold  of  one  another.  That 
laft  and  greatefl  pledge  of  v^eracity,  an  oath,  without  which  no 
fociety  could  fubfifr,  derives  its  whole  authority  from  an  efta- 
bliilied  reverence  of  God,  to  whom  it  is  a  folemn  appeal.  Ba- 
nilh  religious  principle,  and  ycu  loofen  all  the  bonds  which  con- 
red:  mankind  together  ;  you  (hake  the  fundamental  pillar  of  mu- 
tual confidence  and  trufl ;  you  render  the  fecurity  arifing  from 
laws,  in  a  great  meafure,' void  and  i-nefTeflual.  For  human  laws, 
and  human  i'ancl'ons,  cannot  extend  to  nuniberlefs cafes,  in  which 
the  fafety  of  mankind  is  deeply  concerned.  They  would  prove 
very  feeble  inftruments  of  order  and  peace,  if  there  were  no  checks 
upon  the  conduct  of  men  from  the  fenfe  of  divine  legiflation  ; 
if  no  belief  of  future  rewards  and  punifliments  were  to  overawe 
confeience,  and  to  fupi>Iy  the  defcds  of  human  government. 

Indeed,  the  belief  of  religion  is  of  fuch  importance  to  public 
>\'cliare,  that  the  mofi  expreifive  dcjcription  we  could  give  of  a 
fociety  ot  men  in  the  utmoli  diibrder,  would  be  to  fay,  that  there 
wa:  no  fear  of  God  left  among  them.  Imagination  would  imme- 
diately conce've  of  them  as  abandoned  to  rapine  and  violence,  to 
perfidy  and    treachery,    as  deceiving  and   deceived,    oppref.ing 

and 


Rdtg'iQus  Knowledge  to  T^Janhmd,  i-p 

and  opprefied  ;  confumed  by  iiuertine  broils,  ;ind  ripe  for  becom- 
ing a  prey  to  the  firft  invader.  On  the  other  hand,  in  order  to 
form  the  idea  of  a  focieiy  flonrifhing  in  its  highed  glory,  we 
need  only  conceive  the  belief  of  Chriftian  principles  exerting  its 
full  influence  on  the  hearts  and  lives  of  all  the  members.  Infiant- 
]y,  the  mofl  amiable  ^c.em  would  open  to  our  view^  We  ihould 
fee  the  caufes  of  public  difunion  removed,  when  men  were  aiii- 
mated  with  that  noble  fpirit  of  love  and  charity  which  our  religi- 
on breathes  ;  -and  formed  to  the  purfuit  of  thofe  higher  intereti?, 
which  give  no  occafion  to  competition  and  jcaloufy.  We  fnculd 
fee  families,  neighbourhoods,  and  communities,  living  in  un- 
broken amity,  and  purfuing,  with  one  heart  and  mind,  the  com- 
mon intereft  ;  fobriety  of  manners,  and  fimplicity  of  life,  reftor- 
ed  ;  virtuous  induftry  carrying  on  its  ufeful  labours,  and  cheerful 
contentment  every  where  reigning.  Politicians  may  lay  down 
Vv^hat  plans  they  plcafe  for  advancing  public  profperity  ;  but,  in 
trurh,  it  is  the  prevalency  of  fuch  principles  of  religion  and  vir- 
tue, which  forms  the  ftrength  and  glory  of  a  nation.  When 
theie  are  totally  wanting,  no  meafures  contrived  by  human  v^if- 
dom  can  fupply  the  defeft.  In  proportion  as  they  prevail,  they 
raife  the  (fate  of  fociety  from  that  fad  degeneracy  into  which  it  is 
at  prefent  funk  ;  and  carry  it  forward,  under  the  bleffing  of  He^i- 
ven,  towards  that  happy  period,  when  nation  JJy all  not  lijt  up  their 
fvjord  ogainj}  nation^  nor  Is  am  war  any  more. 

In  order  to  prove  the  importance  of  religious  knowledge  to 
the  intereft  of  fociety,  one  confideration  more,  deferving  parti- 
cular attention,  remains  to  be  mentioned.  It  is,  tUat  if  good  feed 
be  not  fowii  in  the  field,  tares  will  infallibly  fpring  up.  The 
propenfion  towards  religion  is  ftrong  in  the  human  heart.  There 
is  a  natural  preparation  in  our  minds,  for  receiving  feme  imprefli- 
ons  of  fupernatural  belief.  Upon  thefe,  among  ignorant  and  un- 
cultivated men,  fupcrftirion  or  enthufiafrn  never  fail  to  graft 
themfelves.  Into  what  monilrcus  forms  thefe  have  ihct  forth, 
and  what  various  mifchirf:^  thsy  have  produced  to  fociety,  is  too 
well  knovv'n.  Nor  is  this  the  whole  of  the  danger.  Defigning 
men  are  always  ready  to  take  advantage  of  this  popular  weak- 
nefs,  and  to  dircd  the  fnperftitious  bias  of  the  multitude  to  thci^ 
own  smbitions  and   intereued  ends.     SuperPiition,     in    itfclf  a 

Pt  formidable 


140  On  the  Impwtance  of,  ire. 

formidable  evil,  tlireatens  confequenccs  ftill  more  formidabls,- 
when  it  is  rendered  the  tool  of  dcfjgn  and  craft.  Kence  arifes 
one  of  the  niofl  powerful  arguments  for  propagating  with  zeal, 
as  far  as  our  influence  can  extend,  the  pure  and  undefiled  doc- 
trines of  the  Gofpel  of  Chrift ;  in  order  that  juft  and  rational 
principles  of  religion  may  fill  up  that  room  in  the  minds  of  men, 
which  dangerous  fanaticifm  will  otherwile  ufurp. 

This  confideration  alone  is  fufficientto  fnow  the  high  utility  of 
the  defign  undertaken  by  the  Sociecy  for  propagating  Chriftian 
Knowledge.  With  great  propriety,  they  biave  beflowed  their 
chief  attention  on  a  remote  quarter  of  our  own  country,  where, 
from  a  variety  of  caufes,  ignorance  and  fuperftiticn  had  gained 
more  ground  than  in  any  other  corner  of  the  land  ;  where  the 
inhabitants,  by  their  local  fituation,  were  more  imperfedly  fup- 
plied  with  the  means  of  proper  education  and  inffrucfion  ;  and  at 
the  fame  time  expofed  to  the  feductions  of  fuch  as  fought  to  per- 
vert them  from  the  truth.  The  laudable  endeavours  of  this  So- 
ciety in  diffufing  religious  and  ufeful  knowledge  through  this  part 
of  the  country,  have  already  been  crowned  with  much  fuccefs  ; 
and  more  is  Hill  to  be  expected  from  the  continuance  of  their 
pious  and  well-direded  attention. 

With   fuch  good  defigns,  it  becomes  all  to  co-operate,  who  are 

lovers  of  mankind.     Tims  fnall   they  fiiow  their  juft  fenfe  of  the 

value  of  that  blefiing  v»-hicli  they  enjoy,  in  the  knowledge  of  the 

Gofpel  of  Chrift  ;  and  their  gratitude  to  Heaven  for  conferring 

it  upon  them.     Thus  Ihsll  they  m?ke  the  blefiings  of  thofe  who 

are  now  ready  xoperijh  through  lack  0/  /['nQwlc-^oe^  defcend  upon 

their  heads.     Thus  Ihall  they  contribute  their    endjeavours    for 

bringing  forward  that  happy  period  foretold  by  ancient  prophecy  ; 

wlien  "  there  ihall  be  one  Lord  over  all  the  earth,    and  his  name 

*'  one  ;"'  when  that  *'  name  ihall  be  great  from  the  rifmg  to  the  fet- 

'*  ting  fun;"  wlien  "  th'jre  (hall  be  nothing  to  hurt  nor  deftroy  in 

"  all  the  holy  mountain  of  God  •/'  but  **  judgment  fhalJ  dwell  in 

*'  the  wildernefs,  and  righteouhiefs  remain  in  the  fruitful  field  ; 

"  thedefert  IhaU  rejoice,  and  blolTom  as  the  rofe;'*  and  **  the  earth 

<•'  ftKill  be  full  of  the  knowledge  of  the  Lord  as  the  waters  cover 

^'  the  lea.''* 

S  E  Fx  M  O  N 

*  Zcc^.iar,  xiv.   g.   T\'alad:,  i.    11.   JfcucL^,  MX'^ii.  16.  xxxv.  i. 


[     i4t      J 

SERMON       XXXI. 

On  the  True  Honour  of  Man. 

••^-^••^•••^•■^"•■^'■^ 

Proverbs,  iv.  8. 

;Exalt   her,    and  pc  JJmll   prsmote   theg  ;   fie   fiall   bring  thee 
tQ  honour. 

TME  love  of  honour  is  one  of  the  ftrongeft  pafTions  in  the 
human  heart.  It  (hows  itfelf  in  our  earliefi:  years  ;  and  is 
coeval  with  the  firft  exertions  of  reafon.  It  accompanies  us 
through  all  the  ftages  of  fubfequent  life,  and  in  private  ftations 
difeovers  itfelf  no  lefs  than  in  the  higher  ranks  of  fociety.  la 
their  ideas  of  what  conftitutes  honour,  men  greatly  vary,  and  of- 
ten grofsly  err.  But  of  fomewhatf  which  they  conceive  to  form 
pre-eminence  and  diitirtction,  all  are  defirous.  All  wifh,  by 
forne  means  or  other^  to  acquire  refped:  from  thofe  among  whom 
ihey  live  ;  and  to  contempt  and  difgrace^  none  are  infeniible. 

Among  the  advantages  which  attend  religion  and  virtue,  the 
honour  which  they  confer  on  man  is  frequently  mentioned  in  fcrip- 
ture  as  one  of  the  moit  confiuerable.  JVifdom  is  the  principal 
things  fays  Solomon  in  the  pamige  where  the  text  lies,  *^  there- 
*'  fore  get  wifdom  ;  and  with  all  thy  getting  get  underftanding. 
"  Exalt  her,  and  Hie  fhall  promote  thee  ;  fne  ihall  bring  thee  to 
'<  honour,  when  thou  d oft  embrace  her. —  She  fhall  give  to  thirie 
*'  head  an  ornam.ent  of  grace  ;  a  crown  of  glory  fiiall  flie  deliver 
*'  to  thee/'  It  is  evident  that  throughout  all  thefacred  writings, 
and  particularly  in  this  book  of  Proverbs,  hyijifdo'/n  is  to  be  un- 
derftood  a  principle  of  religion  producing  virtuous  condud. 
The  fear  of  the  Lord  is  fa  id  to  be  the  beginning  of  wifdom  :  And 
by  this  fear  of  the  Lord  men  are  f^iid  to  depart  from  evil ;  to  walk 

in 


J4'2  C'n  the  True  Hcncur 

in  the  way  of  good  vier.,  and  to  keep  the  path  of  the  righteous:* 
Man  is  then  regulated  by  the  ivijdom  luhich  ir  from  above,  Vv-hen 
lie  is  formefl  by  piety  to  the  duties  of  virtue  and  morality  ;  and 
o(-  the  wiTdoin  which  produces  this  eifetl,  it  is  aliened  in  the  text^ 
that  it  brini'tth  us  to  honour. 

On  this  recommendation  of  religion  it  is  the  more  necellary  to 
fix  our  attention,  b^cauTe  it  is  often  rcfufcd  to  it  by  men  of  the 
world.  Their  notions  of  honour  are  apt  to  run  in  a  very  different 
clianneK  Wherever  religion  is  mentioned,  they  conne(5t  with  it 
ideas  of  melancholy  and  dejedion,  or  of  mean  and  feeble  fpirits. 
They  perhaps  admit  that  it  may  be  ufeful  to  the  multitude,  as  a 
principle  of  reftraini  from  dilurders  and  crimes;  and  that  to  per- 
fons  of  a  peculiar  turn  of  mind,  it  may  afford  confclation  under 
the  diilreifes  of  life.  But  from  the  active  fcenes  of  the  worlds 
and  from  thofe  vigorous  exertions  which  difplay  to  advantage  the 
human  abilities,  they  incline  totally  to  exclude  it.  It  may  footh 
the  timid,  or  the  fad  :  But  they  coiifider  it  as  having  no  connec- 
tion with  what  is  proper  to  raifs  men  to  honour  and  diftinction.  I 
fliaa  now  endeavour  to  remove  this  reproach  from  religion  ;  and 
to  fhow  that  ill  every  fituation  of  human  life,  even  in  thehigheft 
flalions,  it  forms  the  honour,  as  well  as  the  happinefs  of  man. 

But  firit,  let  us  be  careful  to  afcertain  vvbat  true  religion  is.  I  ad- 
mit that  tiiere  is  a  certain  (j^ecies  of  religion  (if  we  can  give  it 
that  jjame)  which  has  no  claim  to  fuch  high  diftinction  ;  when  it  is 
placed  wholly  in  Ipcculation  and  belief,  in  the  regularity  of  external 
bo  liagc,  or  in  fiery  zeal  about  contefted  opinions.  From  a  fuper- 
ftition  inherent  in  the  human  mind,  the  religion  of  the  multitude 
lias  alaays  been  tindured  with  too  much  of  this  fpirit.  They 
frjrve  God  as  they  would  fcrve  a  proud  mailer,  v.-ho  may  be  flatter- 
ed by  their  proftrations,  appeafed  by  their  gifts,  and  gained  by 
loud  proteftations  of  attachment  to  his  interefts,  and  of  enmity 
to  all  whom  they  fuppofe  to  be  his  foes.  But  this  is  not  that  wif- 
dom  to  which  Solomon  afcribes,  in  the  text,  fuch  high  preroga- 
tives. It  is  not  the  religion  which  we  preach,  nor  the  religion 
of  Chrift.     That  relifnon  condfts  in  the  love  of  God  and  the  love 


'b' 

of 


*  Prov.  ii.  20. 


©/  Mart.  143 

of  man,  grounded  on  faith  in  the  Lord  JefusChrlft,  the  great 
Redeemer  of  the  world,  the  Interceflcr  for  the  penitent,  and  the 
Patron  of  the  virtuous  ;  through  whom  we  enjoy  comfortable 
accefs  to  the  Sovereign  of  the  univerfe  in  the  a6ls  of  worfliip  and 
devotion.  It  confifts  in  juftice,  humanity,  and  mercy ;  in  a 
fair  and  candid  mind,  a  generous  and  afFedionate  heart ;  accompani- 
ed with  temperance,  felf-government,  and  a  perpetual  regard  in  all 
our  anions  to  ccnfcience,  and  to  the  law  of  God.  A  religious, 
and  a  thoroughly  virtuous  character,  therefore,  1  confider  as  the 
fame. 

By  the  true  honour  of  man  is  tobe  underftood,  not  what  mere- 
ly commands  external  refpedl,  but  what  commands  the  refpeft  of 
the  heart ;  what  raifes  one  to  acknowledged  eminence  above 
others  of  the  fame  fpecies  ;  what  always  creates  eileem,  and  in 
its  higheft  degree  produces  veneration.  The  queftion  now  be- 
fore us  is,  from  what  caufe  this  eminence  arifes  ?  By  what  means 
is  it  to  be  attained  ? 

I  SAY,  firft,  from  riches  it  does  not  arife.  Thefe,  we  all 
know,  may  belong  to  the  vileft  of  mankind.  Providence  has 
fcattered  them  among  the  crowd  with  an  undidinguifliing  hand, 
as  of  purpofe  to  fliovv  of  what  fmall  account  they  are  in  the  fight 
of  God,  Experience  every  day  proves  that  the  poirelFion  of  them 
isconfillent  with  the  moft  general  contempt.  On  this  point,  there- 
fore,^  I  conceive  it  not  neceifary  to  infift  any  longer. 

Neither  does  the  honour  of  man  arife  from  mere  dignity  of 
rank  or  office.  V/ere  fuch  diliindions  ahvvays,  or  even  general- 
ly, obtained  in  confequence  of  uncommon  merit,  they  would 
indeed  confer  honour  on  the  charader.  Bur,  in  the  prefent 
ftate  of  fociety,  it  is  too  well  known  that  this  is  not  the  cafe. 
They  are  often  the  conlequence  cf  birth  alone.  They  are  fome- 
times  the  fruit  of  mere  dependence  and  afliduity.  They  may  be 
the  recompence  of  flattery,  verfatiliry,  and  intrigue;  and  fo  be 
conjoined  with  meannefs  and  bafenefs  of  charader.  To  perfons 
graced  with  noble  birth,  or  placed  in  high  Rations,  much  exter- 
nal honour  is  due.    This  is  v/hat  the  fubordination  of  fociety  ne- 

ceilarily 


x^4  ^^  ^^'^  True  Honour 

ccflarily  requires ;  ;nid  what  every  good  lueii.ber  of  it  will  clieef- 
fully  yield.  But  how  often  hjs  it  happened  that  luch  peifoiis, 
when  externally  refpetied,  are,  ntveniielefs,  defpired  by  men  in 
their  heans ;  nay,  lonieiiajes  execrated  by  the  public?  Their 
elevation,  if  they  have  been  unworthy  of  ir,  is  fo  far  from  pro- 
x:uring  them  true  Iionour,  that  it  only  renders  t'heir  infignificance, 
perhaps  their  infamy,  more  confpicuous.  By  drawing  attention 
to  their  condud:,  it  dilLOvers,  in  the  molt  glaring  light,  how  little 
tliey  deferve  theftatipn  which  they  polLlii. 

I  MUST  next  obferve^  that  the  proper  honour  or  man  arifes  not 
from  fume  of  thofe  fplendid  actions  and  abilities  which  excite  high 
admiration.  Courage  and  prowefs,  military  renown,  lignal  vic- 
tories and  coi^queih,  may  render  the  nauie  <Ji  a  man  famous, 
without  rendering  his  character  truly  honourable.  To  many  brave 
men,  to  many  heroes  renowned  in  ftory,  we  louk  up  with  won- 
kier. Their  exploits  are  recorded.  i  heir  praifes  are  fung. 
They  fiand  as  on  an  eminence  above  the  lett  of  mankind.  1  heir 
Piiiiiience,  neverthelefs,  ntay  not  be  of  that  lort  before  vvhich 
we  bow  with  invvard  eitc^ein  and  refpecl.  Something  more  is 
wanted  for  that  purpoie  than  the  conqueiing  arm  and  the  intre- 
pid mind,  llie  laurels  of  tije  warrior  nuiit  at  all  times  be  dy- 
ed in  blood,  and  bedewed  vviih  the  tears  of  the  widow  and  the 
orphan.  But  if  they  have  been  Ilained  by  rapine  and  inhuniani- 
ty  ;  if  fordid  avarice  has  marked  his  ciiaracter ;  or  low  and  grofs 
ienfualiry  lias  degraded  his  life  ;  the  great  htj-o  links  into  a  little 
man. —  What  at  a  diitaiice,  or  on  a  luperhcial  view  we  admired, 
becomes  mean,  perhaps  odious,  when  we  examine  it  more  clofe- 
ly.  It  is  like  the  Coloflal  fiatue,  whole  imnjenfe  fize  flnick  the 
fpeclator  afar  elf  with  aftonifliment ;  but  when  nearly  viewed,  it 
appears  difproportioned,  unihapcly  and  I'Cidc. 

OBsr.ilVATi02\S  of  the  fame  kind  may  be  applied  to  all  the  re- 
putation  derived  from  civil  accomplilhiiitnti ;  from  the  relined 
politics  of  the  itateiman  ;  or  the  literary  eifbrts  of  genius  and  e- 
rudiiion.  Thefe  beftow,  and,  within  certain  bounds,  ought  to 
bellow,  eminence  and  diilindtion  on  men.  They  difcover  talciits 
which  in  ihemfelves  are   lliining  ;  and  whidi  become  highly  va- 

luable 


of  Man,  145. 

liKiblt?,  when  employed  in  advancing  the  gooA  of  mankind,. 
Hence  they  frequently  give  rife  to  fame.  Eur  a  dillinc^ion  is  ro 
be  made  between  fime  nnd  true  honour.  The  former  is  a  loud- 
and  noify  applaufe  :  The  latter,  a  more  filenc  and  internnl  ho- 
mage. Fame  floats  on  the  breath  of  the  multitude  :  Honour  reds  on 
the  judgment  of  the  thinking.  Fame  njyy  give  praifc  while  i'j 
with-holdsefteem  :  True  honour  implies  eltcem  mingled  with  rc- 
fpe(5t.  The  on.e  regards  particular  dillinguifiied  talents :  The  o- 
ther  looks  up  to  the  whole  charader.  Hence  the  (latefmTn,  the 
orator,  or  the  poet,  may  be  famous;  while  yet  the  man  himfclf 
is  far  from  bei'ng  honoured,  "We  envy  his  abilities.  We  wif]}  to- 
rival  them.  But  we  would  not  chufe  to  be  clafTed  with  him  who 
polll'ilcd  them.  Inihnices  of  this  fort  are  too  often  found  in  eve- 
ry record  of  ancient  or  modern  hiilory. 

From  all  this  it  follows,  that  in  order  to  difcern  where  man's 
true  honours  lie,  we  mufl  look,  not  to  any  adventitious  circum- 
Ibnce  of  fortune  %  not  to  any  fingle  fparkling  quality  -,  but  to  tlie 
whole  of  what  forms  a  man  ;  what  in  titles  him,  as  fuch,  to 
rank  high   among  that  ciafs  of  beings  to  which  he  belongs;  in  a 

word,  we   muft   look  to  the  mind  and  tlie  foul, A  niind  fu- 

perior  to  fear,  to  felfiHi  intereft  and  rcrruption  ;  a  mind  go- 
verned by  the  principles  of  uniform  reclitude  and  integrity  ;  the 
fame  in  profperiry  and  sdverfity  ;  which  no  bribe  ca-n  feduce, 
nor  terror  overawe;  neither  by  pleafure  melted  into  effeminacy^ 
nor  by  diffrefs  funk  into  dejediion  ;  fuch  is  tlie  mind  which  forms 
the  ditlindlion  and  en7inence  of  man.  One,  v. lio  in  no  fituation 
of  life  is  either  afliamed  or  afraid  of  difcharging  his  dufy,  and  ac"t- 
ing  his  proper  part  with  firmnefs  and  conilarcy  ;  true  t»uhe  God 
whom  he  worfhips,  and  true  to  the  faith  in  whicli  he  profefTes  to 
believe;  full  cf  affection  to  his  brethren  of  mankind  ;  faithful  tcv 
his  friends,  generous  to  his  enemies,  warm  with  compaflion  ta 
the  unfortunate;  felf-denying  to  little  private  interefls  and  plea- 
fures,  but  zealous  for  public  interefl  and  hanpinefs;  magnanimoiis 
without  being  proud  ;  hun^ble  without  being  mean  ;  juil:  without 
being  harfh  ;  fmiple  in  his  manners,  but  manly  in  his  feelings- 
on  v\  hole  word  you  can  entirely  rely  ;  whofe  countenance  never 
(leceivcs  you ;  whofe  profeffions  of  kindneis  are  the  effufions  of: 

his 


146  On  the  True  Honour 

his  heart:  One,  in  fine,  whom  independent  of  any  views  of  scJ- 
vancage,  you  would  chufe  for  a  fuperiour,   could   truft  in  as   a 

friend,  and  could  iove  as  a  brother: This  is  the  man,  \\hcm^ 

in  your  heart,  above  all  others,  you  do,  you  muft,  honour. 

Such  a  characlcr,  iinperfeclly  as  it  has  now  been  drawn,  all 
mun  acknowledge  to  be  formed  folely  by  the  influence  of  fteady 
relio-ion  and  virtue.  It  is  the  eflfct  of  principles  which,  operat- 
ino-  on  confcisnce,  determine  it  uniformly  to  purfue  whatfotver 
things  are  iriiSj  wbatfoevdr  things  are  hmefl,  whatfoever  things  are 
jujQf  i&jhatfoever  things  are  pure,  whatfotver  things  pre  lovely y  what' 
focver  thijigs  are  of  good  report^  if  there  he  any  virtue,  and  if  there 
be  any  traife*  By  thefe  means,  wijdom,  as  the  text  alTerts,  bring- 
eth  us  to  hciiour. 

In  confirmation  of  this  doctrine  it  is  to  be  obferved,  that  the 
honour  which  man  acquires  by  religion  and  virtue  is  more  inde- 
pendent, and  more  complete,  than  v.'hat  can  be  acquired  by  any 
other  means.  \x.  is  independent  of  any  thing  foreign  or  external- 
It  is  not  partial,  but  entire  refpecl,  which  it  procures.  Where- 
ever  fortune  is  concerned,  it  is  the  ftation  or  rank  which  com.- 
uiands  our  deference.  Where  fome  fliining  quality  attracts  ad- 
miration, it  is  only  to  a  part  of  the  charader  that  we  pay  homage. 
But  when  a  perfon  is  difringuirned  for  eminent  worth  and  good- 
nefs,  it  is  the  man,  the  whole  man,  v;l:om  v^e  refpecl.  The  ho- 
nour which  he  poiufies  is  intrinfic.  Place  him  in  any  lituaiion  of 
life,  even  an  obfcure  one;  let  room  only  be  given  for  his  virtues 
to  come  forth  and  Ihow  themfelves,  and  you  Vvill  revere  him  ;  as 
a  private  citizen  ;  or  as  the  father  of  a  family.  If  in  higher  life 
he  appear  more  iHuflrious,  this  is  not  owing  merely  to  the  refped 
created  by  rank.  It  i?,  becaufe  t'nere  a  nobler  fphere  of  action 
is  opened  to  him;  becaufe  his  virtues  ?.re  brought  forth  into 
luore  extended  exertion  ;  and  placed  in  fuch  conrpicuous  view, 
that  he  appears  to  grace  and  adorn  the  (Nation  which  he  fills.  E- 
ven  in  the  fjience  of  retirement,  or  in  the  retreat  of  old  age, 
fuch  a  man  finks  not  into  for;^-o:tcn  cbfcurity.  His  remembered 
virtues  coiiinue  to  be  honoured,  when  ihcir  a^iive  excriions  are 

over; 
*  Philip,  iv.  8. 


^Ver  ;  and  to  the  lad  ftage  of  life  he  is  followed  by  public  cfteerri 
ami  relpedt.  Whereas,  if  genuine  worth  be  wanting,  the  ap- 
plaiife  which  may  have  attended  a  man  for  a  while,  by  degrees 
dies  away.  Though,  for  a  part  of  his  life,  he  had  dazzled  the 
World,  this  was  owing  to  his  deficiency  in  the  elTential  qualities 
having  not  been  fufpeded.  As  loon  as  the  impoltot*  is  difco- 
vered,  the  falling  ftar  finks  in  darknefs.-^There  is  therefore  a 
ftandard  of  independent,  inrrinfic  worth,  to  which  we  mult  bring 
in  the  end  whatever  claims  to  be  honourable  among  men.  By 
this  we  muft  mealure  it ;  and  it  will  always  be  found,  that  no- 
thing but  what  is  effential  to  rnaii^  has  power  to  command  the 
refpeft  of  man's  heart; 

It  is  to  be  farther  obferved,  that  the  liniverfal  confent  of  man* 
kind  in  honouring  real  virtue,  is  fufRcicnt  to  Ihow  that  the  ge- 
nuine fenfe  of  human  nature  is  on  this  fubjedl.  All  other  claims 
C)f  honour  are  ambulatory  and  changeable.  The  degrees  of  rc- 
fpect  paid  to  external  ftations  vary  with  foi-ms  of  government, 
and  falhidns  oi  the  times;  Qualities  which  in  one  country  are 
highly  honoured,  iii  another  are  lightly  cftecmed.  Nay,  what 
in  fome  regions  of  the  earth  diftinguiihes  a  man  aboVc  others, 
might  elfewhere  expofe  him  to  coritempt  or  ridicule.  But  where 
was  ever  the  nation  on  the  face  of  the  globe,  who  did  not  ho- 
nour unblemiflied  Worth,  unaffedted  piety,  fledfalt,  humane,  anJ 
regular  virtue?  To  whom  were  altars  ereded  in  the  Heathen 
world^  but  to  thofe  who  by  their  merits  and  heroic  labours,  by 
their  invention  of  ufeful  arts,  or  by  fbme  fignal  ads  of  benefi- 
cence to  their  country,  or  to  mankind,  were  found  worthy,  iii 
their  opinion,  to  be  transferred  from  among  men,  and  added  to 
the  number  of  the  gods?— ^— Even  the  counterfeited  appearances 
of  virtue,  which  are  (o  often  found  in  the  world,  are  teflimoni- 
ous  to  its  praife.  The  hypocrite  knows  that,  without  afluiiiing 
the  garb  of  virtue,  every  other  advantage  he  can  poflefs  is  infuf- 
ficient  to  procure  him  efteem.  Interference  of  intereft,  or  per- 
verfity  of  difpofition,  may  occafionally  lead  individuals  to  oppofe^ 
even  to  hate,  the  upright  and  the  good.  But  however  the  cha* 
raclersof  fach  perlbns  may  be  miflaken,  or  mifreprelented,  yet, 
as  far  as  they  are  acknowledged  to  be  virtuous,  the  profligate 
8i.irc  not  traduce  them.   Genuine  virtus  has  a  language  that  fpea.U 


14.8  On  the  True  Honour 

to  every  heart  throughout  the.  world.  It  is  a  language  which  rs 
iinderflood  by  all.  In  every  region,  every  clime,  the  homage 
paid  to  it  is  the  fame.  In  no  one  fcntiment  were  ever  mankind 
more  generally  agreed. 

Finally,  the  honour  acquired  by  religion  and  virtue  is  ho- 
nour divine  and  immortal.  It  is  honour,  not  in  the  eftimation  of 
men  only,  but  in  the  tight  of  Cod  ;  whofe  judgment  is  the  (land- 
ard  of  truth  and  right ;  whofe  approbation  confers  a  crown  of 
glory  that  fadeth  fiot  away.  All  the  honour  we  can  gain  among 
men  is  limited  and  confined.  Its  circle  is  narrow.  Its  duration 
is  fliort  and  tranfitory.  But  the  honour  which  is  founded  on  true 
goodnefs,  accompanies  us  through  the  whole  progrefs  of  our  ex- 
igence. It  enters  with  man  into  a  future  ftate ;  and  continues 
to  brighten  throughout  eternal  ages.  What  procured  him  re- 
fpe£l  on  earth,  fhall  render  him  eftimablc  among  the  great  af- 
fembly  of  angels,  and  fpirlts  of  jufi  men  made  perfe^  ;  where, 
we  arcaffurcd,  they  who  have  been  eminent  in  righteoufncfs  fliall 
Jhine  as  the  krighinefs  ef  the  firmament,  and  as  the  pars  for  ever 
and  ever,*  Earthly  honours  are  both  fliort-lived  in  their  conti- 
nuance, and,  while  they  laft,  tarniflied  with  fpots  and  ftains.  On 
fome  quarter  or  other,  their  brightnefs  is  obfcured ;  their  exal- 
tation is  humbled.  But  the  honour  which  pi^ceeds  from  God, 
and  virtue,  is  unmixed  and  pure.  It  is  a  luftre  vv'hich  is  derived 
from  heaven  ;  and  is  likened,  in  fcripture,  to  the  light  of  the 
morning ,  when  the  fun  rifeth  ;  even  a  m.ormvg  without  clouds  ;  to 
the  light  which  fiineth  more  and  more  unto  the  per fe  61  day.f  Where- 
as the  honours  which  the  world  confers  refemble  the  feeble  and 
twinkling  flame  of  a  taper;  which  is  often  clouded  by  the  fmoke  it 
fends  forth;  is  always  wafting;  and  foon  dies  totally  away. 

Let  him,  therefore,  who  retains  any  fenfe  of  human  dignity  ; 
who  feels  within  him  that  defire  of  honour  which  is  congenial  to 
man,  alpire  to  the  gratification  of  this  paflion  by  methods  which 
are  worthy  of  his  nature.  Let  him  not  reft  on  any  of  thofe  ex- 
ternal diftinftions  which  vanity  has  contrived  to  introduce,  Thefe 
can  procure  him  no  more  than  the  femblance  of  refped. — Let 
him  not  be  flattered  by  the  apphufe  which  fome  occafional  dif- 
play  of  abilities  may  have  gained  him, — That  anplaufe  may  be 

mingled 
*  Daniel  xi'u  3.         f  2  Sam.  xxii.  4.     Prov.  iv.  i8. 


of  Man,  j^^ 

mingled  with  contempt.  Let  him  look  to  what  will  dignify  his 
charaaer  as  a  man.  Let  him  cultivate  thofe  moral  qualities 
which  all  men  in  their  hearts  refped.  Wifdom  fhall  then  g\ve  to 
his  head  an  ornament  of  grace;  a  crown  of  gkry  fhall  Jhe  deliver 
to  him.  This  is  an  honour  to  which  all  may  afpire.  It  is  a  prize 
for  which  every  one,  whether  of  high  or  low  rank,  may  con! 
tend.  It  is  always  in  his  power  fo  to  diftinguiOi  himfelf  by  wor- 
thy and  virtuous  conduft,  as  to  command  the  refpea  of  thofe  a- 
roundhim;  and,  what  is  higheft  of  all,  to  obtain  praife  and  ho- 
nour from  God. 

Let  no  one  imagine  that  in  the  religious  part  of  this  charadler 
there  is  any  thing   which  cafts  over  it  a  gloomy  fliade,  or  dero- 
gates from  that  efteem  which  men  are  generally  difpofed  to  yield 
to  exemplary  virtues.  Falfe  ideas  may  beente^ained  of  religion  - 
as  falfe  and  imperfeft  cmiceptions  of  virtue  Jiave  often  prevailed 
in  the  world.  But  to  true  religion  there  belongs  no  fullen  gloom  - 
no  melancholy  aufterity,  tending  to  withdraw  men  from  human 
fociety,  or  to  diminiOi  the  exertions  of  adive  virtue.  Onthecon- 
trary,  the  religious  principle,  rightly  underftood,  not  only  unites 
with  all  fuch  virtues,  but  fupports,  fortifies,  and  confirms  them. 
It  IS  fo  far  from  obfcuring  the  luftre  of  a  character,  that  it  height- 
ens  and  ennobles  it.     It  adds  to  all  the  moral  virtues  a  venerable 
and  authoritative   dignity.       It  renders   the   virtuous  charafler 
more  auguft.     To  the  decorations  of  a  palace,  it  joins  the  majefty 
of  a  temple.  -^     ^ 

He  who  divides  religion  from  virtue,  underftands  neither  the 
one,  nor  the  other.  It  is  the  union  of  the  two  which  confum- 
mates  the  hu,n,„  character  and  Ibte.  It  is  their  union  which  has 
d.ft.ngu,lhed  thofe  great  and  illuftrious  men,  who  have  ftone  with 
io  much  honour  in  former  ages;  and  whofe  memory  lives  in  the 

rememhrance  of  f„cceeding  generations Ic   is  their  union 

^vh.ch  forms  that  wifdom  ^hich  h  from  abov. ;  that  wifdom  to 
wh>ch  the  text  afcribes  fuch  high  effefls ;  and  to  which  belongs 
the  fubhme  encom.um  given  of  it  by  an  author  of  one  of  the  apo- 
cryphal books  of  Scripture  ;  with  whofe  beautiful  and  en.phatkal 
exprelhons  I  conclude  this  difcourfe.  The  memmal  of  virtue  U 
.mm-yrta.  It  is  kmwn-^UhCoJ,  and  v>ith  mcr,.  IVher,  it  is  prefent 
mm  lake  example  at  it;  and  -when  it  is  gone,  they  deftre  it.    It 

weareth 


1^0  On  the  Tme  Honour y  ^c'. 

ivsareth  a  crown  and  triumpheth  for  ever ;  lavirg  gotten  the  vie^ 
iory  ;  Jlr'iv'tng  for  undefled  rewards,  Wlfdom  is  the  breath  of  the 
power  of  Cod  ;  and  a  pure  irfiuence  flowing  from  the  glory  of  the 
Jlmighty.  Therefore  can  no  defiled  thing  jail  into  her.  She  is  the 
brightnejs  of  the  everlajling  light ;  the  unfpotted  mirrour  of  the  power 
cfCod; .  and  the  image  of  his  goodnefs.  Remaining  in  herftlf  fhe 
rnaketh  all  things  new  ;  and  in  all  ages,  entering  into  holy  fouls,  Jhe 
maketh  them  friends  of  Ccdt  and  prophets  .•  For  Cod  loveth  none  hut 
him  that  dwelleth  with  wifdom.  She  is  more  beautiful  than  the  fun  ; 
fnd  above  all  the  order  cf  thej7arj.  Being  compared  with  li^ht,  fie 
\s  found  before  it,* 


g  E  R  M  O  N 


JVi/dom  of  Solomon,  iv.  2,  3.-^vli.  25,  26,  27,  28,  2§s. 


E    151    3 

SERMON      XXXlI, 

On  Sensibility. 


Romans,  xii.  15. 

KeJQtce  with  them  thai  ch  rejoice,  and  weep  with  them  that  weep, 

THE  amiable  fpirit  of  our  holy  religion  appears  in  nothing 
more  than  in  the  care  it  hath  taken  to  enforce  on  men  the 
focial  duties  of  life.  This  is  one  of  the  cleared  charaderiftics  of 
its  being  a  religion  whofe  origin  is  divine  :  For  every  do6lrine 
-which  proceeds  from  the  Father  of  mercies,  will  undoubtedly 
breathe  benevolence  and  humanity.  This  is  the  fcope  of  the  two 
exhortations  in  the  text,  to  rejoice  with  them  that  rejoice,  and  to 
weep  with  them  that  weep;  the  one  calculated  to  promote  the  hap- 
pinefs,  the  other,  to  alleviate  the  forrows  of  our  fellow-creatures ; 
both  concurring  to  form  that  temper  which  interefts  us  in  the  con- 
cerns of  our  brethren  ;  which  difpofes  us  to  feel  along  with  them, 
to  take  part  in  their  joys,  and  in  their  forrows.  This  temper  is 
known  by  the  name  of  Senfibility;  a  word,  which  in  modern 
times  we  hear  in  the  mouth  of  every  one ;  a  quality,  which  eve- 
ry one  affeds  to  polTefs ;  in  itfelf,  a  moil  amiable  and  worthy  dif^ 
pofition  of  mind  ;  but  often  miftaken  and  abufed  ;  employed  as  a 
cover,  fometimes,  to  capricious  humour ;  fomctimes,  to  felfifh 
pafTions.  I  ihall  endeavour  to  explain  the  nature  of  true  fenfibi* 
lity.  I  fhall  confider  its  efTedls  :  and  after  fliowing  its  advantag- 
es, iliall  point  out  the  abufes,  and  miftaken  forms  of  this  virtue. 
The  original  conftitution  of  our  nature  with  refpe6l  to  the 
mixture  of  felfifh  and  focial  afFeftions,  difcovers  in  this,  as  in  eve- 
ry other  part  of  our  frame,  profound  and  admirable  wifdom, 
Each  individual  is,  by  his  Creator,  committed  particularly  to  him^ 

felf. 


152  Cn  Se/ifihUify. 

lelf,  and  his  own  care.  He  has  it  more  in  his  own  power  to  pro- 
mote his  own  welfare,  than  any  other  perfon  can  poflibly  have  to 
promote  it.  It  was  therefore  lit,  it  was  neceflary,  that  in  each 
individual  lelf-Iove  fhould  be  the  llrongefl  and  nioft  a£live  in- 
ftind.  This  lelf-love,  if  he  had  been  a  being  who  flood  folitary 
alone,  might  have  proved  fufficient  for  the  purpofe,  both  of  his 
prefer vation  and  his  welfare.  But  fuch  is  not  the  fituation  of 
man.  He  is  niixed  among  multitudes  of  the  fame  nature.  In 
thefe  multitudes,  the  felf-love  of  one  man,  or  attention  to  his  par- 
ticular intereft,  encountering  the  felf-love  and  the  interefts  of  a- 
nother,  could  not  but  produce  frequent  oppofition,  and  innume- 
rable mifchiefs.  It  was  necefl'ary,  therefore,  to  provide  a  coun- 
terbalance to  this  part  of  his  nature;  which  is  accordingly  done, 
by  implanting  in  him  thofs  focial  and  benevolent  inftinds  which 
lead  him,  in  lome  meafure,  our  of  himfelf,  to  follow  the  intereft 
of  others.  The  flrength  of  thefe  focial  inQincls  is,  in  genera!, 
proportioned  to  their  in)pcrtance  in  human  life.  Hence  that  de- 
gree of  fenfibility  whicli  prompts  us  to  v^eep  with  them  that  weep, 
is  flronger  than  that  vviiich  prompts  us  to  rejoice  suit h  them  that  re- 
joice; for  this  reafon,  that  the  unhappy  ftand  more  in  need  of  our 
fellow-feeling  and  afiifiance  than  the  profperous.  Still,  however, 
it  was  requiiite,  that  in  each  individual  the  quantity  of  felf-love 
ihould  renjain  in  a  large  proportion,  on  account  of  its  importance 
to  the  prefervation  of  his  life  and  well-being.  But  as  the  quanti- 
ty requifite  for  this  purpofe  is  apt  both  to  engrofs  his  attention, 
and  to  carry  him  into  crinnnal  excfcfits,  the  perfe(fi:ion  of  his  na- 
ture is  meafured  by  the  due  counterpoife  of  thofe  focial  principles 
which,  tempering  the  force  of  the  ieliifh  affedtion,  render  man 
equally  ufeful  to  himfelf,  and  to  thofe  with  whom  he  is  joined  in 
fociety.  Hence  the  ufe  and  the  value  of  that  fenfibility  of  which 
we  now  treat. 

That  it  constitutes  an  elTential  part  of  a  religious  character, 
there  can  be  no  doubt.  Not  only  are  the  words  of  the  text 
cxprefs  to  this  purpofe,  but  the  v/hcle  New-Teftament  abounds 
with  paiTages  which  enjoin  the  cultivation  of  this  difpofition.  Be- 
ing "  all  one  body,  and  members  one  of  another,"  we  are  com- 
manded to  "  love  our  neighbours  as  ourfelves  ;  to  look  every  man 

**  not  on  his  own  thincrs  onlv,  but  on  thofe  of  others  alfo  ;  to  be  pi- 
""        ''  ^Uiful, 


On  Se?ifwi'ity.  j^j 

*/  tiful,  to  be  courteous,  to  be  tender-henrted  ;  to  bear  one  ano- 
ther's burdens,  and  To  to  fulfil  the  law  of  Chrilt."*  The  difpo- 
fitions  oppofiteto  fenfibility  are,  cruelty,  hardnefs  of  heart,  con- 
traded  attachments  to  worldly  intereft;  which  every  one  will  ad- 
mit to  be  direftly  oppofite  to  the  Chriftian  character.  According 
to  the  different  degrees  of  conftitutional  warmth  in  men's  aifec- 
tions,  fenfibility  may,  even  among  the  virtuous,  prevail  in  dif- 
ferent proportions.  For  all  derive  not  from  nature  the  fame  hap- 
py delicacy,  and  tendernefs  of  feeling.  With  fome,  the  heart 
melts,  and  relents,  in  kind  emotions,  much  more  cafily  than 
with  others.  But  with  every  one  who  afpires  to  the,  cha- 
racter of  a  good  man,  it  is  necelTary  that  the  humane  and  com- 
paffionate  diipofitions  fliould  be  found.  There  muft  be  that  with- 
in him  which  fliall  form  him  to  feel  in  fome  degree  with  the  heart 
of  a  brother;  and  when  he  beholds  others  enjoying  happinefs, 
or  fees  them  funk  in  forrow,  (hall  bring  his  affedions  to  accord, 
and,  if  we  may  fpeak  fo,  to  found  a  note  unifon  to  theirs.  This 
is  to  rejoice  ivlth  them  that  rejoice,  and  to  xveep  with  them  that  weep. 
How  much  this  temper  belongs  to  the  perfection  ot  our  nature,  we 
learn  from  one  who  exhibited  that  perfc6tion  in  its  higheft  oe, 
gree.  When  our  Lord  Jefus,  on  a  certain  occafion,  came 
to  the  grave  of  a  beloved  friend,  and  faw  his  relations  mourning 
around  it,  he  prefently  caught  the  imprefTion  of  their  forrows ; 
*^  he  groaned  in  fpirit,  and  was  troubled.''  He  knew  that  he  was 
about  to  remove  the  caufe  of  their  diftrefs,  by  recalling  Lazarus 
to  life  :  Yet  in  the  moment  of  grief,  his  heart  fympathifed  with 
theirs  ;  and,  together  with  the  weeping  friends,  Jejus  wept.f 

Let  us  next  proceed  to  cor.fider  the  effect  of  this  virtuous  fen- 
fibility on  our  character,  and  our  ftate.  I  fhall  confider  it  in  two 
views  ;  its  influence  on  our  moral  condud:,  and  its  influence  on 
our  happinefs. 

First,  It  powerfully  influences  the  proper  difcharge  of  all  the 
relative  and  focial  duties  of  life.  Without  fome  difcharge  of  thofe 
duties  there  could  be  no  comfort  or  fecurity  in  human  fociety. 
Men  would  become  hords  of  favages,  perpetually  haralTing  one 
another.     In  one  way  or  other,  therefore,  the  great  duties  of 

focial 
*  Lukex.  27.  Philip,  ii.  4.    i  Peter  iii.  ^.  Ephef,  iv.  23.  Cal.  vi,  2. 
f  John  ii,  35. 


i54  ^"  JSerTfibiliiy. 

ibcia]  life  muft  be  performed.  There  niuft  be  among  mankind 
ibme  reciprocal  co-operation  and  aid.  In  this,  all  confent.  But 
let  us  obferve,  that  ihefe  duties  may  be  performed  from  different 
principles,  and  indifferent  ways.  Sometimes  they  are  performed 
merely  from  decency  and  regard  to  character ;  fometimes  frorri 
tear,  and  even  from  felfiflinefs,  which  obliges  men  to  fliow  kind- 
nefs,  in  order  that  they  may  receive  returns  of  it.  In  fuch  caf- 
es, the  exterior  of  fair  behaviour  may  be  preferved.  But  all  will 
admit,  that  when  from  conftraint  only,  the  offices  of  feeming 
kindnefs  are  performed,  little  dependence  can  be  placed  on  them, 
and  liftle  value  allowed  to  them. 

By  others^  thefe  offices  are  difcharged  folely  from  a  principle 
of  duty.  They  are  men  of  cold  affections,  and  perhaps  of  an  in. 
tereiled  character.  But^  overawed  by  a  fenfe  of  religion,  and 
convinced  that  they  are  bound  to  be  beneficent,  they  fulfil  the 
courfe  of  relative  duties  with  regular  tenor.  Such  men  ad  from 
confcience  and  principle.  So  lar  thty  do  well,  and  are  worthy 
of  praife.  They  afiiit  their  friends;  they  give  to  the  poor;  they 
dojufiieeto  all.  But  what  a  different  complexion  is  given  to  the 
fame  adions,  how  niuch  higher  flavour  do  they  acquire,  when 
they  flow  from  the  fenflbility  of  a  feeling  heart  ?  If  one  be  not 
moved  by  affedion,  even  fuppufing  him  influenced  by  principle,  he 
will  go  no  farther  than  Ariel  prniciple  appears  to  require.  He 
will  advance  flowly  and  reluctantly.  As  it  is  juflice,  not  gencro- 
fity,  which  impels  him,  he  will  often  feel  as  a  talk  what  he  is 
required  by  confcience  to  perform.  Whereas,  to  him  who  is 
proajpted  by  virtuous  feufibility,  every  office  of  beneficence  and 
humanity  is  a  pleafure.  He  gives,  affifls,  and  relieves,  not  mere- 
ly becdufe  he  is  bouud  to  do  fo,  but  becaufe  it  would  be  painful 
for  him  to  refrain.  Hence,  the  fmallefl  benefit  he  confers  rifes 
ill  its  value,  on  account  of  its  carrying  the  affection  of  the  giver 
iinpreffed  upon  the  gift.  It  fpeaks  his  heart;  and  the  difcovcry 
of  the  heart  is  very  frequently  of  greater  confequence  than  all 
lliat  iibtrality  can  beflow.  How  often  will  the  affedlonate  fmileof 
approbation  gladden  the  humble,  and  raife  the  dejeded  ?  How 
often  will  the  luuk  of  tender  fympathy,  or  the  tear  that  involun- 
tarily falls,  impart  conibla'tion  to  the  unhappy?  By  means  of  this 
'-r-'^':dentw  of  liearts,  all  ihe  ^''^a:  duties  v.- hich  we  owe   m 

OUQ 


On  Senfib'uUy.  I5J 

bne  jiiiOtlier  are  both  performed  to  more  advantage,  and  endear- 
ed in  the  performance.  From  true  renlibiliiy  How  a  thoufand 
good  offices,  apparently  fmall  in  ihemfelves,  but  of  hioh  impor- 
tance to  the  felicity  of  others;  offices  which  altogether  efcape  th^ 
obfervation  of  the  cold  and  unfeeling,  who,  by  the  hardnefs  of 
their  manner,  render  themfelves  unamiable,  even  \\hen  they 
mean  to  do  good.  How  happy  then  would  it  be  for  mankind, 
if  this  affedionate  difpofition  prevailed  more  generally  in  the 
world  !  How  much  would  the  fura  of  public  virtue  and  public  fe- 
hcity  be  increafed,  if  men  were  always  inclined  to  "  rejoice  with 
*'  them  that  rejoice,  and  to  weep  with  them  that  weepi" 

But,  befides  the  efTed:  of  fuch  a  temper  on  general  virtue  and 
happinefs,  let  us  confider  its  eficfts  on  the  happinefs  of  him  whd 
polTefles  it,  and  the  various  pleafures  to  which  it  gives  him  accefs. 
If  he  be  mafter  of  riches  or  influence,  it  affords  him  the  means 
of  increafing  his  own  enjoyment,  by  relieving  the  wants,  or  in- 
creafing  the  comforts  of  others.  If  he  command  not  thefe  ad- 
vantages, yet  all  the  comforts  which  he  fees  in  the  poffelTion  of 
the  defcrving  become  in  fome  fort  his,  by  his  rejoicing  in  the 
good  which  they  enjoy.  Even  the  face  of  nature  yields  a  fatis- 
fadlion  to  him  which  the  infenfible  can  never  know.  The  pro- 
fufion  of  goodnefs  which  he  beholds  poured  forth  on  the  univerfe, 
dilates  his  heart  with  the  thought  that  innumerable  multitudes  a- 
round  him  are  blefl  and  happy. — When  he  fees  the  labours  of 
men  appearing  to  profper,  and  views  a  country  fiourifliing  in 
wealth  and  induftry  ;  when  he  beholds  the  fpring  coming  forth 
in  its  beauty,  and  reviving  the  decayed  face  of  nature  ;  or  in  au- 
tumn beholds  the  fields  loaded  with  plenty,  and  the  year  crowned 
with  all  its  fruits  j  he  lifts  his  affections  with  gratitude  to  the 
great  Father  of  all,  and  rejoices  in  the  general  felicity  and  joy. 

It  may  indeed  be  objecled,  that  the  fame  fenfibility  lays  open 
the  heart  to  be  pierced  with  many  wounds  from  the  diftreffes 
which  abound  in  the  world  ;  expofes  us  to  frequent  fuffering 
from  the  participation  which  it  communicates  of  the  forrows,  as 
well  as  of  the  joys  of  friendOjip.  But  let  it  be  confidered,  that 
the  tender  melancholy  of  fympathy  is  accompanied  with  a  fenfa- 
tion,  which  they  who  feel  it  would  not  exchange  for  the  grati- 
fications of  the  felfiOi.  When  the  heart  is  flrongly  moved  by  a- 
ny  of  the  kind  affedions^  even  when  it  pours  itfflf  forth  in  vir- 

T  uiuus 


1^6  On  Sr-nfihiltty^ 

tuous  foiTOW,  a  lecret  attradive  cliarm  mingles  with  the  painful 
emotion  ;  there  is  a  joy  in  the  midrt  of  grief.  Let  it  be  farther 
coufidered,  that  the  griefs  which  fenfibi'iiy  introduces  are  coun- 
terbalanced by  pleafures  which  flow  from  the  fame  fource.  Senfi- 
bility  heigbters  in  general  the  human  powers,  and  is  connected 
"with  acutenefs  in  all  our  feelings.  If  it  make  us  more  alive  to 
fome  painful  fenfations,  in  return,  it  renders  the  pleafmg  ones 
mere  vivid  and  animated.  The  felfifli  man  languifljes  in  his  nar- 
rov/  circle  of  pleafures.  They  are  Confined  to  what  afteds  his 
own  intereft.  He  is  obliged  to  repeat  the  fame  gratifications,  till 
they  become  infipid.  But  the  man  of  virtuous  fenfibility  moves 
in  a  wider  fphere  of  felicity.  Eis  powers  are  much  more  frequent- 
ly called  forth  into  occupations  of  pleafing  adivity.  Numberlefs 
occafions  open  to  him  of  indulging  his  favourite  tafte,  by  convey- 
ing fatisfa<!lion  to  others.  Often  it  is  in  his  power,  in  one  way  or 
other,  to  fcoih  the  afflicted  heart;  to  carry  feme  confolaticn  into 
the  houfe  of  woe.  In  the  fcenes  of  ordinary  life,  in  the  domeftic 
and  fecial  intercourfes  of  man,  the  cordiality  of  his  affedions  chears 
and  gladdens  him.  Every  appearance,  every  defcription  of  innocent 
happinefs  is  enjoyed  by  him.  Every  native  expreflion  of  kindnefs 
and  afFedion  among  others  is  felt  by  him,  even  though  he  be  not 
the  objecT:  of  it.  Among  a  circle  of  friends,  enjoying  one  another, 
he  is  as  happy  as  the  happieft.  In  a  word,  he  lives  in  a  different 
fort  of  world  from  what  the  felfifh  man  inhabits. — He  pcilefles  a 
new  fenfe,  which  enables  him  to  behold  cbjecls  which  the  felfifli 
cannot  fee.  At  the  fame  time,  his  enjoyments  are  not  of  that 
kind  which  remain  merely  on  the  furface  of  the  mind.  They  pe- 
jietrare  the  heart.  They  enlarge  and  elevate,  they  refine  and 
ennoble  it.  To  all  the  pleafing  emotions  of  affedion,  they  add 
the  dignified  confcioufnefs  of  virtue.  Chilclren  of  men  !  Men  form- 
ed by  nature  to  live  and  to  feel  as  brethren  !  How  long  will  ye 
continue  to  eP.range  ycurlelves  from  one  another  by  competitions 
and  jealoufies,  when  in  cordial  union  ye  might  be  fo  much  more 
blefl?  How  long  will  ye  feek  your  happinefs  in  felfifii  gratifications 
alonCj  negle^ling  thofe  purer  and  better  fources  of  joy,  which  flow 
from  the  affedtions  and  the  heart? 

Having  now  explained  the  nature,  and  fiiown  the  value  and 
high  advantages  of  true  fenfibiliiy,  I  proceed  to  point  out  fome 

of  the  niiftaken  forms,  and  abufes  of  this  virtue. In  modern 

limes. 


On  Senfihiltty,  jcj 

times,  the  chief  improvement  of  which   we  have  to  boaft,  is  a 
fenfe  of  humanity.      This,  notwithftanding    the   felfifliners  that 
ftill  prevails,  is  the  favourite  and  diftinguifliing  virtue  of  the  age. 
On  general  manners,  and  op  feveral  departments  of  fociety,  it  has 
had  confiderable  influence.   It  has  abated  the  fpirit  of  perfecution  : 
It  has  even  tempered  the  horrors  of  war  ;  and  man  is  now  more  a- 
flnmedthan  he  was  in  fome  former  ages,  of  adingasa  favage  toman. 
Hence,  fenfibih'ty  has  become  (o  reputable  a  quaUty,  that  the  appear* 
ance  of  it  is  frequently  aflumed  when  the  reality  is  wanting.    Soft- 
nefs  of  manners  mull  not  be  miilaken  for  true  fenfibility,     Senfi- 
bility  indeed  tends  to  produce  gentlenefs  in  behaviour;  and  when 
fuch  behaviour  flows  from  native  afFedion,  it  is  valuable  and  ami- 
able.   But  the  exterior  manner  alone  may  be  learned  in  the  fchool 
of  the  world  ;  and  often,  too  often,  is  found  to  cover  much  un- 
feeling hardnefs  of  heart.     ProfefTions  of  fenfibility  on  every  tri- 
fling occafion,  joined  with   the  appearance  of  exceflive  foftnefs, 
and  a  profufion  of   fentimcntal  language,    afford    always  much 
ground  for  diftrufl.     They  create  the  fufpicion  of  a  fludied  cha- 
racter.    Frequently,  under  a  negligent  and  feemingly  rough  man- 
ner, there  lies  a  tender  and  feeling  heart.     Manlincfs  and  fenfi- 
bility are  fo  far  from  being   incompatible,   that  the  truly  brave 
are,  for  the  mofl:  part,  generous  and  humane ;  while  the  f  oft  and 
effeminate  are  hardly  capable  of  any  vigorous  exertion  of  affedion. 
As  fenfibility  fuppofes  delicacy  of  feeling  with  refpecl  to  others, 
they  who  aifed  the  higheft  fenfibility  are  apt  to  carry  this  delica- 
cy to  excsfs.     They  are,  perhaps,  not  incapable  of  the  warmth 
of  difinterefled  friendfhip  ;  but  they  are  become  ^o  refined  in  all 
their  fenfations;   they  entertain  fuch  high  notions  of  what  ought 
to  correfpond  in  the  feelings  of  others  to  their  own ;  they  are  fo 
mightily  hurt  by  every  thing  whi.:h  comes  not  up  to  their  ideal 
flandard  of  reciprocal  affection,   as  to  produce  difquiet  and  uneafi. 
nefs  to  all  with  whom  they  are  conneded.     Hence,  unjufl  fufpici- 
ons  of  their  friends ;  hence,  groundlefs  upbraidings,  and  com- 
plaints of  unkindnefs ;  hence,  a  pronenefs  to  take  violent  offence 
at  trifles.     In  confeqnence  of  examining  their  friends  with  a  mi- 
crofcopic  eye,  what  to  an  ordinary  obferver  would  not  be  unpleaf- 
ing,  to    them  is  grating  and  difgufting.     At  the  bottom  of  the 
character  of  fuch  perfons  there  always  lie  much  pride,  and  atten- 
tion to  themfelves.     This  is  indeed  a  falle  fpecies  cf  fenfibility. 

I: 


158  Cn  SenfibilUy. 

It  is  tlic  fubftltution  of  a  capricious  and  irritable  delicacy,  in  the 
room  of  that  plain  and  nntive  tendernefs  of  heart,  which  prompts 
men  to  view  others  with  indulgent  eye,  and  to  make  great  allow- 
ances for  the  imperfeitlons  which  are  li)metimes  adherent  to  the 
mod  amiable  qualities. 

Tiierc  are  others  who  affect  not  fenfibility  to  this  extreme,  bu^ 
who  found  high  claims  to  themfelves  upon  the  degree  of  intereft 
which  they  take  in  the  concerns  of  others.  Although  their  fen- 
fibility can  produce  no  benefit  to  the  perfon  who  is  its  objed,  they 
always  conceive  that  it  entitles  themfelves  to  Tome  profitable  returns. 
Thefe,  often,  are  perfons  of  refined  and  artful  charader  ;  who 
partly  deceive  themfelves,  and  partly  employ  their  fenfibility  as  a 
cover  to  intereft.  He  who  acts  from  genuine  affection,  when  he 
is  feeling  along  with  others  in  their  joys  or  forrows,  thinks  not 
of  any  recompence  to  which  this  gives  him  a  title.  He  follows 
the  impulfe  of  his  heart  He  obeys  the  dictate  of  his  nature  ;  juft 
as  the  vine  by  its  nature  produces  fruit,  and  the  fountain  pours 
forth  its  ftreams.  Wherever  views  of  intereft,  and  profpe6ls  of 
return,  mingle  with  the  feelings  of  aiTedion,  fenfibility  ads  an  im- 
perfect part,  and  entitles  us  to  fmall  {bare  of  praife. 

But  fuppofing  it  to  be  both  complete  and  pure,  I  mufc  caution 
you  againft  reding  the  whole  merit  of  your  charader  on  fenfibility 
alone.  It  is  indeed  a  happy  confliiution  of  mind.  It  fits  men  for 
the  proper  difcharge  of  many  duties,  and  gives  them  accefs  to  ma- 
ry  virtuous  pleafures.  It  is  requifite  for  our  acceptance  either 
\%'ith  God  or  man.  At  the  fame  time,  if  it  remain  an  inftindive 
feeling  alone,  it  will  form  no  more  than  an  imperfecl  characTier. 
Complete  virtue  is  of  a  more  exalted  and  digniiied  nature.  It  fup- 
pofcs  fenfibility,  good  temper,  and  benevolent  affedions :  It  in- 
cludes them  as  efiential  parts ;  but  it  reaches  farther  :  It  fuppofes 
them  to  be  ftrengthened  and  confirmed  by  principle  ;  it  requires 
them  to  be  fupported  by  juftice,  temperance,  fortitude,  and  all 
thofe  other  virtues  which  enable  us  to  ad  with  propriety,  in  the 
trying  fituations  of  life. 

It  is  very  poffible  for  a  man  to  pofTefs  the  kind  aftedions  in  a 
Ifigh  degree,  while,  at  the  fame  time,  he  h  carried  awr.y  by  paf. 
fion  and  pleafure  into  many  criminal  deeds.  Almoft  every  man  va- 
lues  himfelf  on  poffeffing  virtue  in  one  or  other  of  its  terms.  He 
\,viihes  to  lay  claim  to  lome  quality  which  will  render  him  ePiim^' 

able 


On  Scnfibiliiy.  irg 

l)Je  in  his  own  eye,  as  well  as  that  of  tlie  public.  Heoce,  it  is 
common  for  many,  efpecially  for  thofe  in  the  higher  clalTes  of 
Jife,  to  take  much  praife  to  themfelves  on  account  of  their  fenfi- 
bility,  though  it  be,  in  truth,  a  fenfibility  of  a  very  clefeclive  kind. 
They  relent  at  the  view  of  mifery  when  it  is  flronaly  fet  before 
them.  Often  too,  afFeded  chiefly  by  the  powers  of  defcription,  it  is 
at  feigned  and  pidured  diitrefs,  more  than  at  real  mifery  that  they 
relent.  The  tears  which  they  flied  upon  thefe  occafions  they  con- 
fider  as  undoubted  proofs  of  virtue.  They  applaud  themfelves 
for  the  goodnefs  of  their  hearts ;  and  conclude  that  with  fuch  feeU 
ings  they  cannot  fail  to  be  agreeable  to  Heaven.— At  the  fame 
time,  thefe  tranfient  relentings  make  (light  imprenions  on  their 
conduft.  They  give  rife  to  few,  if  good  deeds;  and  foon  after 
fuch  perfons  have  wept  at  fome  tragical  tale,  they  are  ready  to 
ftretch  forth  the  hand  of  opprellion,  to  grafp  at  the  gain  of  injuf- 
tice,  or  to  plunge  into  the  torrent  of  criminal  pleafures.  This  fori: 
of  fenfibility  affords  no  more  than  a  fallacious  claim  to  virtue,  and 
gives  men  no  ground  to  think  highly  of  themfelves.  We  muft 
enquire  not  merely  how  they  feel,  but  how  their  feelings  prompt 
them  to  a6l,  in  order  to  afcertain  their  real  character. 

I  SHALL  conclude  with  obferving,  that  fenfibility,  when  genu- 
ine and  pure,  has  a  ftrong  connexion  with  piety.  That  warmth 
of  affedlion,  and  tendernefs  of  heart,  which  lead  men  to  feel  for 
their  brethren,  and  to  enter  into  their  joys  and  forrows,  ihould 
naturally  difpofe  them  to  melt  at  the  remembrance  of  the  divine 
goodnefs;  to  glow  with  admiration  of  the  divine  majeOy ;  to 
lend  up  the  voice  of  praife  and  adoration  to  that  Supreme  Being 
who  makes  his  creatures  happy.  He  who  pretends  to  great  fenfi. 
bility  towards  men,  and  yet  has  no  feeling  for  the  high  objeds  of 
religion,  no  heart  to  admire  and  adore  the  great  Father  of  the  u- 
niverfe,  has  reafon  to  diftruft  the  truth  and  delicacy  of  his  fenfi- 
bility.  He  has  reafon  to  fufpec%  that  in  fome  corner  of  his  heart 
there  lodges  a  fecret  depravity,  an  unnatural  hardnefs  and  callouf- 
nefs,  which  vitiates  his  charaaer.—Let  us  ftudy  to  join  all  the 
parts  of  virtue  in  proper  union  ;  to  be  confidently  and  uniformly 
good  ;  JLhI  and  upright,  as  well  as  pitiful  and  courteous ;  pious,  as 
well  as  fympathifmg.  Let  us  pray  to  him  who  made  the  hearty 
that  he  would  fill  it  with  all  proper  difpofitions;  reftif;  all  its  er- 
rors ;  and  render  it  the  happy  abode  of  perfonal  integrity  and  io- 
£!al  tendernefs^  of  purity,  benevolence,  and  devotion. 


[     i6o     ] 

SERMON      XXXIIL 

On  the  Lmprovement  of  Time. 

Genesis  xlvii.   8. 
And  Pharaoh  fa'id  unto  Jacob,  Hovj  old  art  ihou  ? 

TIME  is  of  lb  gre:it  importance  to  mankind,  that  it  canno': 
too  often  employ  religious  meditation.  There  is  nothing  in 
the  management  of  which  'vifdom  is  more  requifite,  or  where 
mankind  difplay  their  inconfiftency  more.  In  its  particular  par- 
cels, they  appear  entirely  carelefs  of  it;  and  throw  it  awny  with 
thoughtlefs  profufion.  But  when  colle«^cd  into  fome  of  its  great 
portions,  and  viewed  as  the  meafure  of  their  continuance  in  life, 
they  become  fenfible  of  its  value,  and  begin  to  regard  it  with  a 
ferious  eye.  While  clay  after  day  is  wafted  in  a  courfe  of  idle- 
nefs  or  vicious  pleafures,  if  fume  incident  (hall  occur  which  leads 
the  moft  inconfiderate  man  to  think  of  his  a?re,  or  time  of  life  ; 
how  much  of  it  is  gone ;  at  what  period  of  it  he  is  now  arrived  ; 
and  to  what  proportion  of  it  he  can  with  any  probability  look  for- 
ward as  yet  to  come  ;  he  can  hardly  avoid  feeling  fome  fecre:  com- 
punction, and  reflecting  feria'afly  upon  his  itate.  Happy,  if  that 
virtuous  impreifion  were  not  or  momentary  continuance,  but  re- 
tained its  influence  amidil  the  fucceeding  cares  and  pieafures  of 
the  world!  To  the  good  old  Patriarch  mentioned  in  the  text  we 
have  reafon  to  believe  that  fuch  impreflions  were  habitual.  The 
quefl:ion  put  to  him  by  the  Egyptian  monarch  produced,  in  his 
anfwer,  fuch  refleclions  as  were  nalurally  i'uited  to  his  time  of  life, 
And  Jacob  fald  unto  Pharaoh  y  the  dayi  of  the  year  J  of  my  pilgrimage 
are  an  hundred  and  thirty  years  :  few  and  evil  have  the  dnys  of  the 
years  0/  my  life  been^  and  have  ndt  attained  unto  the  days  of  the  years 
of  ike  life  of  my  fathers  J  in  the  day^  of  their  pilgrimage.     But  the 

peculiar 


Cn  the  Iniprovc-meni  of  Time,  '  l6t 

peculiar  circuniftance;  cf  the  Patriarch,  or  the  number  of  his  years, 
are  not  to  be  the  fbbj€(^  of  our  prcTent  confideraticn.  My  pur- 
pole  is,  to  fliow  how  we  flioukl  be  affeded  in  every  period  of  hu- 
man life,  by  reflediion  upon  our  age,  whether  we  be  young,  or 
advanced  in  years;  in  order  that  the  qucAion,  Hoiv  old  art  thou? 
may  never  be  put  to  any  of  us  without  fome  good  effed.  There 
are  three  different  portions  of  our  life  which  fuch  a  queftion  na- 
turally calls  to  view;  that  part  of  it  which  is  pafi: ;  that  which  is 
now  prefent ;  and  that  to  which  we  fondly  look  forward  as  fu- 
ture. Let  us  confider  in  what  manner  we  ought  to  be  affedled 
by  attending  to  each  of  thefe, 

I.  Let  us  review  that  part  of  our  time  which  is  pad. — According 
to  the  progrefs  which  we  have  made  in  the  journey  of  life,  the  field 
which  paft  years  prefent  to  our  review  will  be  more  or  lefs  extenfive. 
But  to  every  one  they  will  be  found  toafTord  iufEcient  matter  of  humi- 
liation and  regret.  For  where  is  the  perfon,  who  having  acled  for 
any  time  in  the  world,  remembers  not  many  errors  and  many  follies, 
paft  behaviour?  Who  dares  to  fay,  that  he  has  improved,  as  he 
might  have  done,  the  various  advantages  which  were  afforded 
him  ;  and  that  he  recalls  nothing  for  which  he  has  reafon  either  to 
grieve,  or  to  blufn?  When  we  recoiled  tke  feveral  ftages  of 
life  through  which  we  have  pafTed ;  the  fuccefTive  occupations  in 
which  we  have  been  engaged,  thedefigns  we  have  formed,  and  the 
hopes  and  fears  which  alternately  have  filled  our  breail ;  how  bar- 
ren for  mofl  part  is  the  remembrance ;  and  how  few  traces  of 
any  thing  valuable  or  important  remain  ?  Like  charaders  drawn  on 
the  fand,  which  the  next  wave  waflies  totally  away,  fo  one  trivial 
fuccefHon  of  events  has  effaced  the  memory  of  the  preceding;  and 
though  we  have  feemed  all  along  to  be  bufy,  yet  for  much  of  what 
we  have  adled,  we  are  neither  wifer  nor  better  than  if  fuch  actions 
had  never  been.  Hence,  let  the  reirofpedt  of  what  is  pafl  pro- 
duce, as  its  lirft  effect,  humiliation  in  our  own  eyes,  and  abafement 
before  God.  Much  do  human  pride  and  felf-complacency  require 
fome  corredion  ;  and  that  corredion  is  never  more  effeciually  ad- 
miniftered,  than  by  an  impartial  and  ferious  review  of  former  life.    • 

But  though  pafl  time  be  gone,  we  are  not  to  confider  it  as  Ir- 
redeemably loO-.  To  a  very  prcfitnble  purpofe  it  may  yet  be  ap- 
plied;  if  we  l?y  hold  of  it  v.hile  it  remains  in  remembrance,  and 

^  oblige 


i62  r«  the  iniprovcment  of  Tin:e, 

oblige  it  to  ccrtribute  lo  future  improverncnr.  If  you  have  gaih'* 
ed  nothing  mere  by  the  years  that  are  pall,  you  have  at  leaftgain^ 
<£A  experience  ;  and  experience  is  the  mother  of  wifdom.  Yoit 
have  feen  the  weak  parts  of  your  charadtr;  and  may  have  difco- 
vered  the  chief  fources  of  your  mifconduct.  To  thefe  let  your  at- 
tention be  directed  ;  on  thefe,  let  the  proper  guards  be  fet.  If 
you  have  trifieil  long,  refolve  to  trifle  no  more.  If  your  palfions 
have  often  betrayed  and  degraded  ycu,  fludy  how  they  ujay  be 
Iiept,  in  future^  under  better  dilcipline.  Learn,  at  the  fame  time, 
never  to  iruit  prefumptuouily  in  your  own  wifdom.  Humbly  ap- 
ply to  the  Author  of  your  being,  and  befeech  his  grace  to  guide 
you  fafely  throu'Th  thofe  fiippery  and  dangerous  paths,  in  vhich 
experience  has  fliown  that  you  are  fo  ready  to  err,  and  to  fall. 

In  reviewing  paft  life,  it  cannot  but  occur,  that  many  things 
now  appear  of  inconfidcrable  importance,  which  once  occupied  and 
attached  U3,  in  the  hightil  degree.  Where  are  thofe  keen  com- 
petitions, thofe  mortifying  difappointments,  thole  violent  ennfities, 
thofe  eager  purfuits,  v.hichue  or.ce  thought  were  to  laft  fcre\er, 
2nd  on  which  w^e  confidered  our  whole  happinefs  or  mifery  as  fuf- 
pended  ?  We  look  back  upon  them  now,  as  upon  a  dream  which 
has  palled  awav.  None  of  thofe  mighty  confequences  have  fol- 
lowed which  we  had  predicted.  The  airy  fabrick  has  vanilhed, 
and  left  no  trace  behind  it.  We  fmile  at  our  former  violence  ; 
and  wonder  how  fuch  things  could  have  ever  appeared  fo  llgnifi- 
rant  and  great.  We  may  refl  alfnred,  that  what  hath  been,  fliall 
again  be.  When  Time  fnall  once  have  laid  his  lenient  hand  on 
the  pafTions  and  purfuits  of  the  prcfent  moment,  they  too  fliall 
lofe  that  imaginary  value  wliich  heated  fancy  now  beftows  upon 
them.  Hence,  let  them  already  begin  to  fubfule  to  their  proper 
level.  Let  wifdom  infufe  a  tincture  of  moderation  into  the  ea- 
gernefs  of  contell,  by  anticipating  that  period  of  coolncfs,  which 
the  lapfe  of  time  will,  of  itfelf,  certainly  bring.  When  we  look 
back  on  years  liiat  are  pad,  how  fwiftly  do  they  appear  to  have 
Heetcd  away?  How  infenfibly  has  one  period  of  life  llolen  upon 
VIS  after  another,  like  the  fucccflive  incidents  in  a  tale  that  is  tclJ P 
Before  we  w ere  aware,  childhood  had  grown  up  into  youth  ;  youth 
liad  palTed  into  manhood  ;  and  manhood  now,  perhaps,  begins  to 
af7unx  the  gj-Fv  iiair,  and  to  decline  into  old  age.     When  we  are 

carry  ing 


On  the  Imprmement  of  Time.  1 63 

carrying  our  views  forward,  months  and  years  to  come  feem  10 
ftretch  thro'7gh  a  long  and  extenfive  fpace.  But  when  the  time 
fliall  arrive  of  our  looking  back,  they  fliall  appear  contracted  with- 
in narrow  bounds.  Time,  when  yet  before  us,  feeras  to  advance 
with  flov/  and  tardy  fteps;  no  fooner  is  it  paft,  than  we  difcern 
its  wings. 

It  is  a  remarkable  peculiarity  in  the  retrofpeft  of  former  life, 
that  it  is  commonly  attended  with  fome  meafure  of  heavinefs  ot 
heart.  Even  to  the  moft  profperous,  the  memory  of  joys  that 
are  paft  is  accompanied  with  fecret  forrow.  In  the  days  of  former 
years,  many  objects  arife  to  view,  which  make  the  moft  unthinking, 
grave;  and  render  the  ferious,  fad.  The  pleafurable  fcenes  of 
youth,  the  objeds  on  which  our  affedions  had  been  early  placed, 
the  companions  and  friends  with  whom  we  had  fpent  many  happy- 
days,  even  the  places  and  the  occupations  to  which  we  had  been 
long  accuftomed,  but  to  which  we  have  now  bid  farewel,  can  hardly 
ever  be  recalled,  without  fottening,  nor  fometimes,  without  pierc- 
ing, the  heart.  Such  fenfations,  to  which  few,  if  any,  of  my  hearers, 
are  wholly  ftrangers,  I  now  mention,  as  affording  a  ftrong  proof 
of  that  vanity  of  the  human  ftate,  which  is  fo  often  reprefented 
in  the  facred  writings  :  And  vain  indeed  mufl  that  (late  be,  where 
iliades  of  grief  tinge  the  recoUedion  of  its  brighteli  fcenes.  But, 
at  the  fame  time,  though  it  be  very  proper  that  fuch  meditations 
ihould  fometimes  enter  the  mind,  yet  on  them  1  advife  not  the  gen- 
tle and  tender  heart  to  dwell  too  long.  They  are  apt  to  produce 
a  fruitlefs  melancholy;  to  dejed:,  without  bringing  much  im- 
provement ;  to  thicken  the  gloom  which  already  hangs  over  hu- 
man life,  without  furnifliing  proportionable  afliitance  to  virtue. 

Let  me  advife  you,  rather  to  recall  to  view  fuch  parts  of  for- 
mer conduft,  if  any  fuch  there  be,  as  afford  in  the  remembrance 
a  rational  fatisfadion.  And  what  parts  of  condud  are  thefe?  Are 
they  the  purfuits  of  fenfual  pleafure,  the  riots  of  jollity,  or  the 
difplays  of  fliow  and  vanity  ?  No ;  I  appeal  to  your  hearts,  my 
friends,  if  what  you  recollect  with  moft  pleafure  be  not  the  in- 
nocent, the  virtuous,  the  honourable  parts  of  your  paft  life;  when 
you  were  employed  in  cultivating  your  minds,  and  improving 
them  with  ufeful  knowledge;  vhen,  by  regular  application  and 
perfevering  labour,  you  were  laying  the  foundatio;!  of  future  r^ 

-U  '  gutation 


j/)4  ^«  '^^^  7mp7'0vemeni  of  Time, 

putation  and  advancement ;  when  you  were  occupied  in  difcharg- 
ing  with  fidelity  the  duties  of  your  flation,  and  acquiring  the  ef- 
teem  of  the  worthy  and  the  good  ;  when  in  fome  trying  fituation 
you  were  enabled  to  ad:  your  part  w  ith  firmnefs  and  honour ;  or 
had  feized  the  happy  opportunity  of  afliftingthe  delcrving,  of  re- 
lieving the  diftreffed,  and  bringing  down  upon  your  heads  the 
blejf-vgs  of  thole  that  -were  ready  to  pcriJJ?.  Thefe,  thefe  are  the 
parts  of  former  life  which  are  recalled  with  nioft  fatisfadion  !  On 
them  alone,  no  heavinefs  of  heart  attends.  You  enjoy  them  as  a 
treafure  which  is  now  ftored  up,  and  put  beyond  all  danger  of  be- 
ino-  lolt,  Thefe  chear  the  hours  of  fadnefs,  lighten  the  burden 
of  old  age,  and,  through  the  moitifyiiig  remembrance  of  much 
of  the  pail,  dart  a  ray  of  light  and  joy.  From  the  review  of 
thefe,  and  the  comparifon  of  them  with  the  deceitful  pleafures  of 
fm,  let  us  learn  how  to  form  our  eftimate  of  happinefs.  Let  us  learn 
what  is  true,  w'hat  is  falfe,  in  human  pleafures ;  and  from  expe- 
rience of  the  paft,  judge  of  the  quarter  to  which  we  muft  in  fu- 
ture turn,  if  we  would  lay  a  foundation  for  permanent  fatisfadion. 
After  having  thus  reviewed  the  former  years  of  our  life,  let  us 
confider, 

II.  What  attention  is  due  to  that  period  of  age  in  which  we 
are  at  prefent  placed.  Here  lies  the  immediate  and  principal  ob- 
ject of  our  concern.  For  the  recolledlion  of  the  pad  is  only  as 
far  of  moment,  as  it  aOs  upon  the  prefent.  The  pail,  to  us  now 
is  little;  the  future,  as  yet,  is  nothing.  Between  thefe  two  great 
gulphs  of  time  fubfiilsthe  prefent,  as  an  ifthmus  or  bridge,  along 
which  we  are  all  pafhng.  With  hafly  and  inconfiderate  iteps  let  us 
not  pais  along  it ;  but  remember  well,  how  m.uch  depends  upon  our 
lioldjpg  a  fteady,  and  properly  conducted  courfe.  JVkatfoever  thine 
handfindeth  to  doy  do  it  now  with  all  thy  might ;  for  now  is  the  accept- 
ed time  ;  now  is  the  day  of  Salvation,  Many  diredions  might  be 
given  for  the  wile  and  religious  improvement  of  the  prefent ;  a 
few  of  which  only  I  fliall  hint. 

Lkt  us  begin  with  excluding  thofe  fuperfluous  avocations  which 
unpiofiiabiy  confume  it.  Life  is  il^ort ;  much  that  is  of  real  im- 
portance resiiains  to  be  done.  If  we  fuffer  the  prefent  time  to  be 
wafi-ed  either  in  abfolute  idlencfs,  or  in  frivolous  en^plcyments, it  will 
Jiereaftcr  call  for  vengeance  againll  us.     Removing  therefore  what 

is 


On  the  Improvement  of  Time,  i6"5 

is  merely  fuperfluons,  let  us  bethink  ourfelvesof  what  ismoft  ma- 
terial t©  be  attended  to  at  prefent :  As,  firft  and  chief,  the  great 
work  of  our  falvation  ;  the  difcharge  of  the  religious  duties  which 
we  owe  to  God  our  Creator,  and  to  Chrift  our  liedeemer.  Cod  wait- 
eth  2S  yet  to  he  gracious  ;  whether  he  will  wait  longer,  none  of  us 
can  tell.  Now,  therefore,  feek  the  Lord  while  he  may  be  founds  callup* 
on  him  while  he  is  near.  Our  fpiritual  interefts  will  be  beft  promoted 
by  regular  performance  of  all  the  duties  of  ordinary  life.  Let  thefe^ 
therefore,  occupy  a  great  fliare  of  the  prefent  hour.  Whatever 
our  age,  our  character,  our  profefTion,  or  llation  in  the  world, 
requires  us  to  do,  in  that  let  each  revolving  day  find  us  bufy. 
Never  delay  till  to-morrow  what  reafon  and  confcience  tell  you 
ought  to  be  performed  to-day.  To-morrow  is  not  yours;  and 
though  you  fhould  live  to  enjoy  it,  you  muft  not  overload  it  with 
a  burden  not  its  own.  Sufficient  for  the  day  wiil  prove  the  duty, 
thereof. 

The  obfervance  of  order  and  method,  is  of  high  confequence 
for  the  improvement  of  prefent  time.  He  who  performs  every 
employment  in  its  due  place  and  feafon,  fuffers  no  part  of  time  to 
'efcaps  without  profit.  He  multiplies  his  days;  for  he  lives  much 
in  little  fpace.  Whereas  he  who  neglects  order  in  the  arrange- 
ment of  his  occupations,  is  always  lofing  the  prefent  in  returning 
upon  the  pad,  and  trying,  in  vain,  to  recover  it  when  gone.  Lee 
me  advife  you  frequently  to  make  the  prefent  employment  of  time 
an  objed  of  thought.  AGc  yourfelves,  about  what  are  you  now 
bufied  ?  What  is  the  ultimate  fcope  of  your  prefent  purfuits  and 
cares?  Canyoujuftify  them  to  yourfelves?  Are  they  likely  to  pro- 
duce any  thing  that  will  furvive  the  moment,  and  bring  forth  fome 
fruit  for  futurity  ?  He  who  can  give  no  faiisfa61:ory  anfwer  to  fuch 
queftions  as  ihefe,  has  reafon  to  fufpeft  that  his  employment  of 
the  prefent  is  not  tending  either  to  his  advantage,  or  his  honour. 
Finally,  let  me  admoniili  you,  that  while  you  Andy  to  improve, 
you  fliouid  endeavour  alfo  to  enjoy  the  prefent  hour.  Let  it  not 
be  difturbed  with  groundlefs  difcontents,  or  poifoned  with  foolilh 
anxieties  about  what  is  to  come  :  But  look  up  to  Heaven,  and  ac- 
knowledge, with  a  grateful  heart,  the  actual  bleflings  you  enjoy. 
If  you  mud  admit,  that  you  are  now  in  health,  peace,  and  fafety  9 
without  any  particular  or  uncommon  evils  to  afHicl  your  condition  ; 
what  more  can  you  reafonably  look  for  in  this  vain  and  uncertain 

world  ? 


1 66  On  the  Improvement  of  Time. 

world?  How  little  can  the  greatefl  profperity  add  to  fuch  a  (late? 
Vv  ill  any  future  lunation  ever  make  you  happy,  if  now,  v/ith  fo 
few  caufes  of  grief,  you  imagine  yourfelves  miferable  ?  The  evil 
lies  in  theftate  of  your  mind,  not  in  your  condition  of  fortune;  and 
by  no  alteration  of  cireumftances  is  likely  to  be  remedied*  Let 
us  now, 

III.  Consider  with  what  difpoGtlons  we  ought  to  look  for- 
ward to  thofe  years  of  our  life  that  may  yet  be  to  come.  Mere- 
ly to  look  forward  to  them,  is  what  requires  no  admonition.  Fu- 
turity is  the  great  objeft  on  which  the  imaginations  of  men  are 
en. ployed ;  for  the  lake  of  which  the  paft  is  forgotten,  and  the 
prefent  too  often  neglected.  All  time  is  in  a  manner  fwallowed 
up  by  it.  On  futurity,  men  build  their  defigns ;  on  futurity, 
tney  reft  their  hopes ;  and  though  not  happy  at  the  prefent,  they 
alv/ays  reckon  on  becoming  fo,  at  fome  fubfequent  period  of  their 
lives.  This  propenfity  to  look  forward,  was  for  wife  purpofes 
implanted  iri  the  human  breaft.  It  ferves  to  give  proper  occupa- 
tio  .•  to  the  active  po^vers  of  the  mind,  and  to  quicken  all  its  exer- 
tions. But  it  is  too  often  immoderately  indulged,  and  grofsly  a- 
bu.cd.  The  curiofity  which  fometimes  prompts  perfons  to  enquire, 
Ipy  unlawful  methods,  into  what  is  to  come,  is  equally  foolilh  and 
finful.  Let  us  rettrain  all  defire  of  penetrating  farther  than  is  al- 
lowed us,  into  that  dark  and  unknown  region.  Futurity  belongs 
to  God  :  And  happy  for  us  is  that  myftericus  veil  with  which  his 
tvifdom  has  covered  it.  Were  it  in  our  power  to  lift  up  the 
veil,  and  to  behold  what  it  conceals,  many  and  many  a  thorn  we 
would  plant  in  our  breafts.  The  proper  and  rational  conduct  o^ 
men  with  regard  to  futurity,  is  regulated  by  two  confiderations : 
Firit,  that  much  of  what  it  contains,  muft  remain  to  us  abfolutely 
unknown  ;  next,  that  there  are  alfo  fomc  events  in  it  which  may 
be  certainly  knov.'n  and  forefeen. 

First,  much  of  futurity  is,  and  muft  be,  entirely  unknown  to  us. 
When  v.e  Ipeculatc  about  the  continuance  of  our  life,  and  the  events 
which  are  to  fill  it,  we  behold  a  river  which  is  always  flowing  ;  but 
which  foon  efcapes  out  of  our  fight,  and  is  covered  with  mift«  and 
darknefs.  Some  of  its  windings  we  may  endeavour  to  trace  ;  but  it 
is  only  for  a  very  fiiort  way  that  we  are  able  to  purfue  them.  In 

endlefs 


On  the  Improvement  of  Time.  167 

tsndlefs  conje£lures  we  quickly  find  ourfelves  bewildered  ;  and,  of- 
ten, the  next  event  that  happens  baffles  all  the  reafonings  we  had 
formed  concerning  the  fucceffion  of  events.     The  confcquence 
which  follows  from  this  is,  that  all  the  anxiety  about  futurity,  which 
paiTes  the  bounds  of  reafonable  precaution,  is  unprofitable  and  vain. 
Certain  mea lures  are  indeed  neceflary  to  be  taken  for  our  fafety. 
We  are  not  to  ruih  forward  inconfiderate  and  headlong.     We 
mull  make,   as  far  as  we  are  able,  provifion  tor  future  welfare ; 
and  guard  againft  dangers  which  apparently  threaten.     But  hav- 
ing done  this,  we  mull  flop;  and  leave  the  refl  to  Him  who  dif- 
pofeth  of  futurity  at  his  will.     He  who  fitteth  in  the  heavens  laughs 
at  the  wifdom  and  the  plans  of  worldly  men.     Wherefore  hoaft 
not   thyfelf  of  to-morrow ;    for  thou  knowejl  not  what  a  day  may 
bring  forth.     For  the  fame  reafon,  defpair  not  of  to-morrow  ;  for 
it  may  bring  forth  good  as  well  as  evil.     Vex  not  yourfelves  with 
imaginary  fears,    The  impending  black  cloud,  to  which  you  look 
up  with  fo  much  dread,  may  pafs  by  harmlefs;  or  though  it  fhould 
difcharge  the  florm,  yet,  before  it  breaks,  you  may  be  lodged  in 
that  lonely  manfion  which  no  florms  ever  touch  . 

In  the  next  place,  there  are  in  futurity  fome  events  which  maybe 
certainly  foreieen  by  us,  through  all  its  darknefs.  Firfl,  it  may  be 
confidently  predicted,  that  nofiiuation  into  which  it  will  bring  us, 
fliall  ever  anfwer  fully  to  our  hopes,  or  confer  perfedhappinefs.  This 
is  as  certain  as  if  we  already  faw  it,  that  life,  in  its  future  periods,  will 
continue  to  be  whatit  has  heretofore  been;  that  it  will  be  a  mixed 
and  varied  flate  ;  a  chequered  fcene  of  pleafures  and  pains,  of  fugitive 
joys  and  tranfient  griefs,  fucceeding  in  a  round  to  one  another. 
Whether  we  look  forward  to  the  years  of  youth,  or  to  thofe  of  man- 
hood and  advanced  life,  it  is  all  the  fame.  The  world  will  be  to 
us,  what  it  has  been  to  generations  pafl.  Set  out,  therefore,  on 
what  remains  of  your  journey  under  this  perfuafion.  According 
to  this  meafure,  eflimate  your  future  pleafures;  and  calculate  your 
future  gains*  Carry  always  along  with  you  a  modefl  and  a  tem- 
perate mind.  Let  not  your  expeftations  from  the  years  that 
are  to  come  rife  too  high  i  and  your  difappointments  will  be  few- 
er, and  more  eafily  fupported. 

Farther;  this  may  be  reckoned  upon  ascertain,  that  in  every 
future  fituation  of  life,  a  good  confcience,  a  well-ordered  mind, 

and 


l68  On  the  Improvement  of  Time. 

and  a  humble  trufl  in  the  favour  of  Heaven,  will  prove  the  eflen- 
tial  incrredients  of  your  ha^ipinefs.  In  reflecting  upon  the  pafl:, 
you  have  found  this  to  hold.  Allure  yourfelves  that  in  future,  the 
cafe  will  be  the  fame.  The  principal  correctives  of  human  vani- 
ty and  diftrefs,  mnft  be  fought  for  in  religion  and  virtue.  Enter- 
ing on  paths  which  to  you  are  new  and  unknown,  place  yourfelves 
under  the  conduct  of  a  divine  guide.  Follow  the  gve^itjhepherd 
of  Jfrael,  who  amidft  the  turmoil  of  this  world,  leads  his  flock 
into  green  paftures,  and  hy  theJJilUvaters, — As  you  advance  in  life, 
ftudy  to  improve  both  in  good  principles, and  in  good  pr^ftice.  You 
will  be  enabled  to  look  to  futurity  without  fear,  if,  >Ahatevcr  it 
brings,  it  fliall  find  you  regularly  employed  in  d^jingjufllyj  loving 
mercy,  and  walking  humbly  with  the  Lord  your  Cod, 

Lastly,  Whatever  other  things  may  be  dubious  in  futurity, 
two  great  events  are  undoubtedly  certain,  death  and  judgment. 
Thcfe,  we  all  know,  are  to  terminate  the  whole  courfc  of  time  ; 
and  we  know  tiiem  to  be  not  only  certain,  but  to  be  approaching 
nearer  to  us,  in  conftquence  of  every  day  that  pafles  over  our  heads. 
To  thefe,  therefore,  let  us  look  forward,  not  with  the  dread  of 
children,  but  with  that  manly  ferioufncfs  which  belongs  to  men 
and  chriflians.  Let  us  not  avert  our  view  from  them,  as  if  we 
could  place  them  at  fome  greater  diftance  by  excluding  them  from 
our  thoucrhts.  This  indeed  is  the  refuge  of  too  many;  but  it  is 
the  refuge  of  fools,  who  aggravate  thereby  tbeterrours  they  muft 
encounter.  For  he  that  cometh,  fiatl  come,  and  ivill  jict  tarry.  To 
his  coming,  let  us  look  with  a  fleady  eye;  and  ss  life  advances 
jhrough  its  progreiflve  flages,  prepare  for  its  clofc^,  and  for  ap- 
pearing before  him  who  made  us. 

Thus  I  have  endeavoured  to  point  out  the  reflections  proper 
to  be  made,  when  the  queftion  is  put  to  any  of  us,  How  old  art  thou? 
1  have  fliown  with  what  eye  we  fliould  review  the  paft  years  of 
our  life;  in  what  light  we  fliould  confider  the  prefenr ;  and  with 
what  difpofltions  look  forward  to  the  future  :  In  order  that  fuch  a 
queftion  may  always  leave  fome  fcrious  imprefTion  behind  it;  and 
may  difpofe  us  fo  to  number  the  years  of  our  life,  that  we  may  ap^ 
ply  our  hearts  unlo  wifdom* 

SERMON 


[169] 
SERMON      XXXIV. 

On  the  Duties  belonging  to  Middle  Age, 

I  Corinthians^  xiii.   11. 
— When  J  became  a  man,  I  put  away  child'tjh  things* 

TO  every  thing y  fays  the  wife  mai),  there  Is  afeafon  ;  and  a  time 
to  every  purpofe  under  Heaven.*  As  there  are  duties  Vy-hich 
belong  to  particular  fituations  of  fortune,  fo  there  are  duiies  alfo 
which  refult  from  particular  periods  of  human  life.  In  every  pe- 
riod of  it,  indeed,  that  comprehenfive  rule  takes  place,  Fear  God 
and  keep  his  commandments  ;  for  this  is  the  whole  duty  of  man.f 
Piety  to  God,  and  charity  to  men,  are  incumbent  upon  perfons 
of  every  age,  as  foon  as  they  can  think  and  aft.  Yet  thefe  vir- 
tues, in  different  ftages  of  life,  afTume  different  forms  ;  and  when 
they  appear  in  that  form  which  is  mofl  fuited  to  our  age,  they  ap- 
pear with  peculiar  gracefulnefs ;  they  give  propriety  to  conduft, 
and  add  dignity  to  character. — In  former  difcourfes  I  have  treat- 
ed of  the  virtues  which  adorn  youth,  and  of  the  duties  which 
fpecially  belong  to  old  age.:}:  The  circle  of  thofe  duties  which 
refped:  middle  age  is  indeed  much  larger.  As  that  is  the  bufy  pe- 
riod in  the  life  of  man,  it  includes  in  efFeft:  the  whole  compafs  of 
religion,  and  therefore  cannot  have  its  peculiar  charafter  fo  defi- 
nitely marked  and  afcertained.  At  the  fame  time,  during  thofe 
years  wherein  one  is  fenfible  that  he  has  advanced  beyond  the^ 
confines  of  youth,  but  has  not  yet  pafled  into  the  region  of  old 
age,  there  are  feveral  things  which  reflection  on  that  portion  of 
human  life  fuggefts,  or  at  leaft  ought  to  fuggefi,  to  the  mind. 
Inconliderate  mull  he  be,  who,  in  his  gradual  progrefs  through- 
out middle  age,  paufes  not,  at  times,  to  think,  how  far  he  is  now 
receding  from  youth;  how  near  he  draws  to  the  borders  of  de- 
clining 
*  EccJeJ,  iii.  i.     f  Ecclef,  xii.  13,    %  See  vol,  1.  Sermons  i  j,  12. 


170  On  fhe  Duties  hehigtrig 

dining  age  ;  what  pnrt  it  is  now  incumbent  on  him  to  aft;  what 
duties  both  God  and  the  world  have  a  title  to  expert  from  him. 
To  thefe,  I  am  at  prefent  to  call  your  attention;  as  what  mate- 
rially concern  the  greateft  part  of  thofe  va  ho  are  now  my  hearers. 

I.  I  BEGIN  with  obferving,  that  the  firft  duty  of  thofe  who 
are  become  men  is,  as  the  text  exprefTes  it,  to  put  away  childifh 
■things.  The  feafon  of  youthful  levities,  foUie.^,  and  paffions,  is 
Tiow  over.  Thefe  have  had  their  reign ;  a  reign  perhaps  too 
Jong ;  and  to  which  a  termination  is  certainly  proper  at  lalt.  PVIuch 
indulgence  is  due  to  youth.  Many  things  admit  of  excufe  then, 
which  afterwards  become  unpardonable.  Some  things  may  even 
be  graceful  in  youth,  which,  if  not  criminal,  are  at  leaft  ridicu« 
3ous,  in  perfons  of  maturer  years.  It  is  a  great  trial  of  wifdom, 
to  make  our  retreat  fronj  youth  with  propriety ;  to  afTume  the 
character  of  manhood,  without  expoHng  ourfclves  to  reproach, 
by  an  unfeafonable  remainder  of  juvenility,  on  the  one  hand,  or 
by  precife  and  difgufting  formality,  on  the  other.  Nature  has 
placed  certain  boundaries,  by  which  fhe  difcriminates  the  pleafures, 
actions,  and  employments,  that  are  fuired  to  the  dilierent  ftagesof 
human  life.  It  becomes  us,  neither  to  overleap  thofe  boundaries 
by  a  tranfition  too  hafty  and  violent;  nor  to  hover  too  long  on 
one  fide  of  the  limit,  when  nature  calls  us  to  pafs  over  to  the 
other. 

There  are  particularly  two  things  in  which  middle  age  (hould 
preferve  its  diftinclion  and  feparation  from  youth  ;  ihefc  are,  le- 
vities of  behaviour,  and  intemperate  indulgence  o^  pleafure.  The 
gay  fpirits  of  the  young  often  prompt  an  inconfiderate  degree  of 
levity,  fometimes  amufing,  fometimes  ofTenfive ;  but  for  which, 
though  betraying  them  occafionally  into  ferious  dangers,  their  want 
of  experience  may  plead  excufe.  A  more  compofed  and  manly  be- 
haviour is  expedled  in  riper  years.  The  arTectation  of  youthful  va- 
nities, de-^rades  the  dignity  of  manhood;  even  renders  its  man- 
ners lefs  agreeable ;  and  by  aukward  attempts  to  pleafe,  produces 
contempt.  Chearfulnefs  is  becoming  in  every  age.  But  the  pro- 
per  chearfulnefs  of  a  man  is  as  different  from  the  levity  of  the  boy, 
as  the  flight  of  the  eagle  is  from  the  fluttering  of  a  fparrow  in  the 
air. 

As 


to  Middle  Age.  \yi 

As  all  the  unfearonable  returns  to  levity  of  youth  ought  to  be  laid 
aficJe, — an  admonition  which  equally  belongs  to  both  the  fexes, — 
ftill  more  are  we  to  guard  againll  thofe  intemperate  indulgencies 
of  pleafure,  to  which  the  young  are  unhappily  prone.  From 
thefe  we  cannot  too  foon  retreat.  They  open  the  path  to  ruin, 
in  every  period  of  our  days.  As  long,  however,  as  thefe  excefles 
are  confined  to  the  firft  ftage  of  life,  hope  is  left,  that  when  this 
fever  of  the  fpirii:s  Ihall  abate,  fobriety  may  gain  the  afcendant, 
and  wifer  counfels  have  power  to  influence  the  condu(fl.  But  af- 
ter the  feafon  of  youth  is  paft,  if  its  intemperate  fpirit  remain  ;  if> 
inftead  of  liftening  to  the  calls  of  honour,  and  bending  attention 
to  the  cares,  and  the  bufinefs  of  men,  the  fame  courfe  of  idle- 
nefs  and  fenfuality  continue  to  be  purfued,  the  cafe  becomes 
more  defperate.  A  fad  prefumption  arifes,  that  long  immaturity 
is  to  prevail ;  and  that  the  pleafures  and  paflions  of  the  youth  are 
to  fmk  and  overwhelm  the  man.  Difficult,  I  confefs,  it  may 
prove  to  overcome  the  attachments  which  youthful  habits  had  for 
a  long  while  been  forming.  Hard,  at  the  beginning,  is  the  talk, 
to  impofe  on  our  condu6t  reftraints  which  are  altogether  unaccuf- 
tomed  and  new.  But  this  is  a  trial  which  every  one  mufl  under- 
go, in  entering  on  new  fcenes  of  adion,  and  new  periods  of  life. 
Let  thofe  who  are  in  this  (ituation  bethink  themfelves,  that  all  is 
now  at  flake.  Their  character  and  honour,  their  future  fortune  and 
fuccefs  in  the  world,  depend  in  a  great  meafure  on  the  fleps  they 
take,  when  firft  they  appear  on  the  flage  of  adive  life.  The 
world  then  looks  to  them  with  an  obferving  eye.  It  ffudies  their 
behaviour ;  and  interprets  all  their  motions,  as  prefages  of  the 
line  of  future  condu£l  which  they  mean  to  hold.  Now,  there- 
fore, put  away  cbildlp  things;  difmifs  your  former  trifling  amufe- 
ments,  and  youthful  pleafures ;  blaft  not  the  hopes  which  your 
friends  are  willing  to  conceive  of  you.  Higher  occupations,  more 
feous  cares,  await  you.  Turn  your  mind  to  the  fleady  and  vi- 
gorous difcharge  of  the  part  you  are  called  to  a6t. — This  leads 
nie, 

II.  To  point  out  the  particular  duties  which  open  on  thofe 
who  are  in  the  middle  period  of  life.  They  are  now  come  for- 
Avard  to  that  field  of  action  where  they  are  to  mix  in  all  the  ftir 
and  buflle  of  the  w  odd ;  where  all  the  human  powers  are  brought 

VV  forth 


J -^2  On  ihe  Duties  lekt^gwg 

forth  into  full  exercife ;  where  all  that  is  conceived  to  be  impor- 
tant in  human  afr'airs  is  incefTantly  going  on  around  them.  The 
time  of  youth  was  the  preparation  for  future  adtion.  In  old  age 
our  adive  part  is  luppofed  to  be  finifned,  and  reft  is  permitted. 
Middle  age  is  the  ieafcn  when  we  are  expeded  to  difplay  the 
fruits  which  education  had  prepared  and  ripened.  In  this  world, 
all  of  us  were  formed  to  be  ailiftants  to  one  another.  The  wants 
of  fociety  call  for  every  man's  labour,  and  require  various  de- 
j5artments  to  be  filled  up.  They  require  that  fome  be  appointed 
to  rule,  and  others  to  obey  ;  fome,  to  defend  the  fociety  from 
danger,  others  to  maintain  its  internal  order  and  peace  ;  fome, 
to  provide  the  conveniencies  of  life,  others  to  promote  the  im- 
provement of  the  mind  ;  many,  to  work  ;  others  to  contrive  and 
direct.  In  fnort,  within  the  fphere  of  fociety  there  is  employment 
for  every  one  ;  and  in  the  ccurfe  of  thefe  employments,  many  a 
moral  duty  is  to  be  performed  ;  many  a  religious  grace  to  be  exereif- 
cd.  No  one  is  permitted  to  be  a  mere  blank  in  the  world.  No  rank, 
nor  nation,  nor  dignity  of  birth,  nor  extent  of  polTeflions,  exempt 
any  man  from  contributing  his  fhare  to  public  utility  and  good. 
This  is  the  precept  of  God.  This  is  the  voice  of  nature.  This  is 
the  juft  den)and  of  the  human  race  upon  one  another. 

One  of  the  firfl  queftions,  therefore,  which  every  man  who  is 
in  the  vigour  of  his  age  fiiould  put  to  him^felf  is,  "  What  am  I  do- 
*'  ing  in  this  worJd.^  What  have  1  yet  done,  v.'hereby  I  may  glo- 
*'  rify  God,  and  be  ufeful  to  my  fellows?  Do  I  properly  fill  up  the 
*'  place  which  belongs  to  my  rank  and  ftation  ?  Will  any  memorial 
*^  remain  of  my  having  exifted  on  the  earth  ?  Or  are  my  days  pafs- 
*'  ing  fruit!t?fs  away,  now  when  1  might  be  of  feme  importance 
*^  in  the  fyfleni  of  human  affairs?'' 

Let  not  any  man  imagine  that  he  is  of  no  importance,  and  has, 
npon  that  account,  a  privilege  to  trifle  with  his  days  at  plcafure. 
Taltnts  have  been  given  to  all ;  to  fome,  ten;  to  others,  fve$  to 
others,  two.  Occupy  with  ibefe  *  ////  /  come,  is  the  command  of 
the  great  MLfter,  to  all, — W'here  fuperior  abilities  are  poflcffed, 
or  difiinguiihcd  advantages  of  fortune  are  enjoyed,  a  wider  range 
is  afforded  for  ufeful  exertion,  and  the  world  is  entitled  to  expecT: 
it.  But  among  thofe  who  fill  up  the  inferior  departments  of  fo- 
ciety, 
*  UtkCj  xi,\.    13. 


i9  Middle  Age,  17:$ 

«iety,  though  the  fphere  of  ufefulnefs  be  more  contra^led,  no  one 
is  left  entirely  infignificant.  Let  us  remember,  that  in  all  ftations 
and  conditions,  the  important  relations  take  place  of  mafters  or 
fervants,  hulbands  and  wives,  parents  and  children,  brothers  and 
friends,  citizens  and  fubjeds.  The  difcharge  of  the  duties  arifing 
from  thofe  various  relations,  forms  a  great  portion  ot  the  work  af- 
figned  to  the  middle  age  of  man.  Though  the  part  we  have  to 
a£l  may  be  confined  within  a  humble  line,  yet  if  it  be  honourably 
adted,  it  will  be  always  found  to  carry  its  own  reward. 

In  fine,  induftry,  in  all  its  virtuous  forms,  ought  to  infpirit  and 
invigorate  manhood.  This  will  add  to  it  both  fatisfadion  and  dig- 
nity ;  will  make  the  current  of  our  years,  as  they  roll,  flow  along  ia 
a  clear  and  equable  ftream,  without  the  putrid  ftagnatlon  of  floth 
and  idlenefs,  Idlenefs  is  the  great  corruptor  of  youth  ;  and  the  bane 
and  difhonour  of  middle  age.  He  who,  in  the  prime  of  life,  finds 
time  to  hang  heavy  on  his  hands,  may  with  niuch  reafon  fufpecfl, 
that  he  has  not  confulted  the  duties  which  the  confideration  of 
his  age  impofed  upon  him;  alTuredly  he  has  not  confulted  his  own 
happinefs.  But  amidft  all  the  buftle  of  the  world,  let  us  not  forget, 

ill.  To  guard  with  vigilance  againft  the  peculiar  dangers  which 
attend  the  period  of  middle  life.  It  is  much  to  be  regretted,  that 
in  the  prefent  ftate  of  things,  there  is  no  period  of  man's  age  in 
which  hi«  virtue  is  not  cxpofed  to  perils.  Pleafure  lays  its  ihares 
for  youth  ;  and  after  the  feafon  of  youthful  follies  is  part,  other 
temptations,  no  lefs  formidable  to  virtue,  prefently  arife.  The  love 
of  pleafure  is  fucceeded  by  the  paflion  for  intereft.  In  thispaffion 
the  whole  mind  is  too  often  abforbed  ;  and  the  change  thereby  in- 
duced on  the  character  is  of  no  amiable  kind. — Amidft  the  excefTes: 
of  youth,  virtuous  aflfeflions  often  remain.  The  attachments  of 
friendfhip,  the  love  of  honour,  and  the  warmth  of  fenfibiliLy,  give 
a  degree  of  luflre  to  the  charafter,  and  cover  many  a  failing.  Bun 
intereft,  when  it  is  become  the  ruling  principle,  both  debafes  the 
mind,  and  hardens  the  heart.  It  deadens  the  feeling  of  every 
thing  that  is  fublime  or  refined.  It  contra6ls  the  afi^edions  within 
a  narrow  circle  ;  and  extinguifhes  all  thofe  iparks  of  generofity  and 
tendernefs  which  once  glowed  in  the  breafl. 

In  proportion  as  worldly  purfuits  multiply,  and  competitions 
rife,  ambition,  jealoufy^  and  envy,  combine  with  intereH  to  excite 

bad 


174  ^f^  i^^c  Duties  belonging 

bad  paflions,  and  to  increafe  the  corruption  of  the  heart.  At 
firlt,  perhaps,  it  was  a  man's  intention  to  advance  himfelf  in  the 
world  by  none  but  fair  and  laudable  methods.  He  retained  for 
fonie  time  an  averfion  to  whatever  appeared  diihonourable.  But 
here,  he  is  encountered  by  the  violence  of  an  enemy »  There,  he 
is  fupplanted  by  the  addrefs  of  a  rival.  The  pride  of  a  fuperi- 
or  infults  him.  The  ingratitude  of  a  friend  provokes  him. — Ani- 
moficies  rufrie  his  temper.  Sufpicions  poifon  his  mind.  He  finds, 
or  imagines  that  he  finds,  the  artful  and  defigning  furrounding 
him  on  every  hi-nd.  He  views  corruption  and  iniquity  prevailing ; 
the  modefl:  neglected ;  the  forward  and  the  crafty  riling  to  dif- 
tinclion.  Too  eafily,  from  the  example  of  others,  he  learns  that 
niydery  of  vice,  called  the  way  of  the  world.  What  he  has 
learned,  he  fancies  neceflary  to  praftife  for  his  own  defence; 
and  of  courfe  alTumes  that  fupple  and  verfatile  charader,  which 
he  obferves  to  be  frequent,  and  which  often  has  appeared  to  him 
fuccefsful. 

To  thefe,  and  many  more  dangers  of  the  fame  kind,  is  the 
man  expofed  who  is  deeply  engaged  in  adlive  life.  Ko  fmall  de- 
gree of  firmnefs  in  religious  prmciple,  and  of  conftancy  in  virtue 
is  requifite,  in  order  to  prevent  his  being  alTimilated  to  the  fpirit 
of  the  world,  and  carried  away  by  the  multitude  of  evil  doers. 
Let  him  therefore  call  to  mind  thole  principles  which  ought  to 
fortif^y  him  againfi;  fuch  temptations  to  vice.  Let  him  often  re- 
collect that,  vchatever  his  ftation  in  hfe  may  be,  he  is  a  man  ;  he 
!5  a  chrirtian.  Tiiefe  are  the  chief  charaders  which  he  has  to 
Support;  characters  fuperior  far,  if  they  be  fupported  with  digni- 
ty, to  any  of  the  titles  with  which  courts  can  decorate  him;  fupe- 
rior to  all  that  can  be  acquired  in  the  Itrife  of  a  bufy  world.  Let 
him  think,  that  thoua;h  it  n)ay  be  defirable  to  increafe  his  opu- 
lence,  or  to  advance  his  rank,  yet  what  he  ought  to  hold  much 
more  facred  is,  to  maintain  his  integrity  and  honour.  If  thefe 
be  forfeited,  wealth  or  Itation  will  have  few  charms  left.  They 
will  not  be  able  to  proted  him  long  from  finking  into  contempt 
in  the  eye  of  an  obferving  world.  Even  to  his  own  eye  he  will  at 
laft  appear  bafe  and  wretched, — Let  not  the  aifairs  of  the  world 
entirely  engrofs  his  time  and  thoughts.  From  that  contagious  air 
which  he  breathes  in  the  midft  of  it^  let  him  fometimes  retreat 

into 


to  Middle  Age,  175 

into  the  falutary  fhade  confecrated  to  devotion  and  to  wifdom. 
There,  converfing  ferioufly  with  his  own  foul,  and  looking  up  to 
the  Father  of  fpirits,  let  him  ftudy  to  calm  thofe  unquiet  pafTions, 
and  to  re6tify  thofe  internal  diforders,  which  intercourfe  with  the 
world  had  excited  and  increafed.  In  order  to  render  this  medi- 
cine of  the  mind  more  efFedual,  it  will  be  highly  proper, 

IV.  That  as  we  advance  in  the  conrfe  of  years,  we  often  at- 
tend to  the  lapfe  of  time  and  life,  and  to  the  revolutions  which 
thefe  are  ever  affeding.  In  this  meditation,  one  of  the  firft  re- 
flections which  fliould  occur  is,  how  niuch  we  owe  to  that  God  who 
hath  hitherto  helped  us;  who  hath  brought  us  on  fo  far  in  life ; 
hath  guided  us  through  the  flippery  paths  of  youth,  and  now  en- 
ables us  to  flourilh  in  the  flrength  of  manhood.  Look  back,  my 
friends,  to  thole  who  Ikrted  along  with  yourfelves  in  the  race  of 
life.  Think  how  many  of  them  have  fallen  around  you.  Ob- 
ferve  how  many  blank  fpaces  you  can  number  in  the  catalogue  of 
thofe  who  were  once  your  companions.  If,  in  the  midft  of  fo 
much  dcvaftation,  you  have  been  preferved  and  blefTed  ;  confider 
ferioufly  what  returns  you  owe  to  the  goodnefs  of  Heaven.  In- 
quire whether  your  conducl  has  correfponded  to  thefe  obligations  ; 
whether,  in  public  and  in  private,  you  have  honoured,  as  became 
you,  the  God  of  your  fathers  ;  and  whether,  amidft  the  unknown 
occurrences  that  are  yet  before  you,  you  have  ground  to  hope  for 
the  continual  protedlion  of  the  Almighty. 

Bring  to  mind  the  various  revolutions  which  you  have  beheld 
in  human  affairs,  fince  you  became  adors  on  this  bufy  theatre. 
Reflect  on  the  changes  which  have  taken  place  in  men  and  man- 
ners, in  opinions  and  cuPtoms,  in  private  fortunes,  and  in  public 
condu6t.  By  the  obfervations  you  have  made  on  thefe,  and  the 
experience  you  have  gained,  have  you  improved  proportionably 
in  wifdom  ?  Have  the  changes  of  the  world  which  you  have  wit- 
nefled,loofened  all  unreafonable  attachment  to  it?  Have  they  taught 
you  this  great  leiTon,  that,  while  the  fafhion  of  the  world  is  ever 
puffing  away,  only  in  God  and  in  virtue,  ftability  is  to  be  found? 
Of  great  ufe,  amidft  the  whirl  of  the  world,  are  fuch  paufes  as 
thefe  in  life  ;  fuch  refting  places  of  thought  and  reflection  ;  whence 
we  can  calmly  and  deliberately  look  back  on  the  paft,  and  anti- 
cipate  the  future. 

To 


176  On  the  Duties  belonging 

To  the  future,  we  are  often  carting  an  eager  eye,  and  fondly 
ftoring  it,  in  our  imagination,  with  many  a  pleafing  fccne.  But 
if  we  would  look  to  it,  like  wife  men,  let  it  be  under  the  perfuafi- 
on  that  it  is  nearly  to  refcmble  the  part,  in  bringing  forward  a 
mixture  cf  alternate  hopes  and  fears,  of  griefs  and  joys.  In  or- 
der to  be  prepared  for  whatever  it  may  bring,  lei  us  cultivate  that 
Hianiy  fortituds  of  mind,  which,  fupported  by  a  pious  truft  in  God, 
will  enable  us  to  encounter  properly  the  vicilTitudes  of  our  ftate. 
No  quality  is  more  necellary  than  this,  to  them  who  are  pafTnig 
through  that  ftormy  feafon  of  life  of  which  we  now  treat.  Soft- 
iiefs  and  effeminacy,  let  them  leave  to  the  young  and  unexperienc- 
ed, who  are  amufmg  themfelves  with  florid  profpeds  of  blifs.  But 
to  thofe  who  are  now  engaged  in  the  middle  of  their  courfe,  who 
are  fuppofed  to  be  well  acquainted  with  the  world,  and  to  know 
that  they  have  to  ftruggle  in  it  with  various  hardfhips,  firmnefs, 
vigour,  and  refolution,  are  difpofitions  more  fuitable.  They  muft 
buckle  on  well  this  armour  of  the  mind,  if  they  would  ifTue  forth 
into  the  conteft  with  any  profped  of  fuccefs.  While  we  thus  ftu- 
dy  to  correct  the  errors,  and  to  provide  againft  the  dangers,  which 
are  peculiar  to  this  Uage  of  life,  let  us  alfo, 

V.  Lay  foundation  for  comfort  in  old  age.  That  is  a  period 
which  all  expe(St  and  hope  to  fee ;  ana  to  which,  amidft  the  toils 
of  the  world,  men  fometimes  look  forvv'ard,  not  without  fatisfac- 
tion,  as  to  the  period  of  retreat  and  reft.  But  let  them  not  de- 
ceive rhemfclves.  A  joylefs  and  dreary  feafon  it  will  prove,  if 
they  arrive  at  it  with  an  unimproved,  or  corrupted  mind.  For 
old  age,  as  for  every  other  thing,  a  certain  preparation  is  requifite; 
and  that  preparation  confifts  chiefly  in  three  particulars  ;  in  the  ac- 
quifition  of  knowledge,  of  friends,  of  virtue.  There  is  an  acqui- 
firion  of  another  kind,  of  which  it  is  altogether  needlefs  for  me 
to  give  any  reconiiendation,  that  of  riches.  But  though  this, 
by  msny,  will  beefleenied  a  more  material  acq'iifition  than  all  the 
three  1  have  named,  it  may  be  confidently  pronounced,  that,  with- 
out thefe  other  requifites,  all  the  wealth  we  can  lay  up  in  iforc 
will  prove  infufficient  for  making  our  latter  days  pafs  fmoothly 
away. 

First,  He  who  wiflies  to  render  his  old  age  comfortable,  fliould 
ftudy  b€timcs  to  enlarge  and  improve  his  mind  j  and  by  thought 

and 


to.  Middle  Jgg,  lyy 

and  inquiry,  by  reading  and  reflecting,  to  acquire  a  tafle  for  ufc- 
ful  knowledge.  This  will  provide  for  him  a  great  and  noble  en- 
tertainment,  when  other  entertainments  leave  him.  If  he  bring 
into  the  folitary  retreat  of  age  a  vacant,  uninformed  mind,  where 
no  knowledge  dawns,  where  no  ideas  rife,  which  has  nothing  to 
feed  upon  within  itfelf,  many  a  heavy  and  comfortlefi  day  he  muft 
necefTarily  pafs.  Next,  When  a  man  declines  into  the  vale  of 
years,  he  depends  raore  on  the  aid  of  his  friends,  than  in  any  o- 
other  period  of  his  life.  Then  is  the  time,  when  he  would  efpe- 
cially  wifii  to  find  himfelf  furrounded  by  fome  who  love  and  re- 
fpedl  him ;  who  will  bear  with  his  infirmities,  relieve  him  of  his 
labours,  and  chear  him  with  their  fociety.  Let  him,  therefore, 
now,  in  the  fummer  of  his  days,  while  yet  a£live  and  flourifhing, 
by  adls  of  feafonable  kindnefs  and  beneficence,  enfure  that  love, 
and  by  upright  and  honourable  condud,  lay  foundation  for  that 
refped,  which  in  old  age  he  would  wifh  to  enjoy.  In  the  laft  place. 
Let  him  confider  a  good  conlciencCj  peace  with  God,  and  the  hope 
of  heaven,  as  the  nioft  effedual  confolations  he  can  pofTefs,  when 
the  evil  days  fhall  come,  wherein,  otherwife,  he  is  likely  to  find 
little  pleafure.  It  is  not  merely  by  tranfient  a6ls  of  devotion  that 
fuch  confolations  are  to  be  provided.  The  regular  tenor  of  a 
virtuous  and  pious  life,  fpent  in  the  faithful  difcharge  of  all  the  du- 
ties of  our  ftation,  will  prove  the  beft  preparation  for  old  age,  for 
death,  and  for  immortality. 

Among  the  meafures  thus  taken  for  the  latter  fcenes  of  life, 
let  me  admonifh  every  one  not  to  forget  to  put  his  worldly  affairs 
in  order,  in  due  time.  This  is  a  duty  which  he  owes  to  his  cha- 
rafter,  to  his  family,  or  to  thofe,  whoever  they  be,  that  are  to 
fucceed  him  ;  but  a  duty  too  often  unwifely  delayed,  from  a  child- 
ifli  averfion  to  entertain  any  thoughts  of  quitting  the  world.  Let 
him  not  truft  much  to  what  he  v^ill  do  in  his  old  age.  Sufficient 
for  that  day,  if  he  fhould  live  to  fee  it,  will  be  the  burden  there- 
of. It  has  been  remarked,  that  as  men  advance  in  years,  they 
care  lefs  to  think  of  death.  Perhaps  it  occurs  oftener  to  the 
thoughts  of  the  young,  than  of  the  old.  Feeblenefs  of  fpirit  ren- 
ders meLmcholy  ideas  more  opprefiive  ;  and  after  having  been  fo 
lo!)g  accufioaied  and  inured  to  the  world,  men  bear  worfe  with 
any  thing  which  reminds  them  that  they  Enult  fcon  part  with  it. 

However, 


178  On  the  Duties  hehng'mgy  (:c. 

However,  as  to  part  with  it  is  the  doom  of  all,  let  us  take  mea« 
fures  betimes  for  going  oiFthe  ftage,  when  it  ihall  be  our  turn  to 
withdraw,  with  decency  and  propriety  ;  leaving  nothing  unfulfilled 
which  it  is  expedient  to  have  done  before  we  die.  To  live  long, 
ought  not  to  be  our  favourite  wifli,  fo  much  as  to  live  well.  By 
continuing  too  long  on  earth,  we  might  only  live  to  witnefs  a  great- 
er number  of  melancholy  fcenes,  and  to  expofe  ourfelves  to  a 
wider  compafs  of  human  woe.  He  who  has  ferved  his  genera- 
tion faithfully  in  the  world,  has  duly  honoured  God,  and  been  be- 
neficent and  ufeful  to  mankind  ;  he  who  in  his  life  has  been  re- 
fpefted  and  beloved  ;  whofe  death  is  accompanied  with  the  fincere 
regret  of  all  who  knew  him,  and  whofe  memory  is  honoured ; 
that  man  has  fufnciently  fulfilled  his  courfe,  whether  it  was  ap- 
pointed by  Providence  to  be  long  or  (hort.  Yov  honourable  age  is 
not  that  which  Jiandeth  in  length  of  time ^  nor  that  which  is  meajured 
by  number  of  years ;  but  wijdom  is  the  grey  hair  to  man ;  and  an 
unfpotted  life  is  old  age,* 

SERMON 


Wi/dom,  iv.  8^  5^ 


E    179  1 
SERMON      XXXV. 

On    Death. 

§"^"^-&-^"^"^ 

ECCLESIASTES.  xii.  5. 

— . Man  goeih  to  his  long  home,  and  the  mourners  go  about  the 

Jireets, 

THIS  is  a  fight  which  incefTantly  prefents  itfelf.  Our  eyes  are 
fo  much  accuftomed  to  it,  that  it  hardly  makes  any  impref- 
fion.  Throughout  every  feafon  of  the  year,  and  during  the 
courie  of  almofl  every  day,  the  funerals  which  pafs  along  the 
flrcets  Ihovv  us  77ian  going  to  his  long  home.  Were  death  a  rare 
and  uncommon  object ;  were  it  only  once  in  the  courfe  of  a  man's 
life,  that  he  beheld  one  of  his  fellow-creatures  carried  to  the  grave, 
a  folemn  awe  would  fill  him;  he  would  flop  fliort  in  the  midft  of 
his  pleafures;  he  would  even  be  chilled  with  fecret  horror.  Such 
impreflions,  however,  would  prove  unluitable  to  the  nature  of 
our  prefent  ftate.  When  they  become  fo  ftrong  as  to  render  men 
unfit  for  the  ordinary  bufmefs  of  life,  they  would  in  a  great  mea- 
fure  defeat  the  intention  of  our  being  placed  in  this  world.  It 
is  better  ordered  by  the  wifdom  of  Providence,  that  they  fliould 
be  weakened  by  the  frequency  of  their  recurrence ;  and  fo  tem- 
pered by  the  mixture  of  other  paflions^  as  to  allow  us  to  go  on 
freely  in  ading  our  parts  on  earth. 

Yet,  famjliar  as  death  is  now  become,  it  is  undoubtedly  fir, 
that  by  an  event  of  lo  important  a  nature,  fome  imprefilon  fliould 
be  made  upon  our  minds.  It  ought  not  to  pafs  over,  as  one  of 
thofe  common  incidents  which  are  beheld  without  concern,  and  a- 
waken  no  reflection.  There  are  many  things  which  the  funerals 
of  cur  fellow-creatures  are  calculated  to  teach  ;  and  happy  it  were 
for  the  gay  and  dillipated,  if  they  would  liften  more  frequently  to 
the  inftrudions  of  fo  awful  a  monitor.     In  the  context,  the  wife 

X  man 


i8o  €n  Death. 

man  had  defcribed,  under  a  variety  of  images  fuited  to  the  eaflern 
(lyle,  the  growing  infirmities  of  old  age,  until  they  arrive  a>t  that 
period  which  concludes  them  all;  when, as  he  beautifully  expreffes 
ir,  the  fiber  cordhewg  hofcned,  and  the  golden  hoiul  broken ,  the  pitcher 
being  broken  at  the  fountain,  and  the  ivheel  at  the  cifiern,  man  goeth 
io  his  long  heme,  and  the  mourners  go  about  thefireets.  In  difcourf- 
ing  from  thefe  words,  it  is  not  my  purpofe  to  treat,  at  prefent, 
of  the  inftrudions  to  be  drawn  from  the  profpeft  of  our  own  death. 
I  am  to  confine  myfelf  to  the  death  of  others ;  to  confider  death 
as  one  of  the  moft  frequent  and  confiderable  events  that  happen 
in  the  courfe  of  human  affairs ;  and  to  fhow  in  what  manner  we 
ought  to  be  affeded,  firft,  by  the  death  of  ftrangers,  or  indiffer- 
ent perfons  ;  fecondly,  by  the  death  of  friends;  and  thirdly,  by 
the  death  of  enemies. 

I,  By  the  death  of  indifferent  perfons;  If  any  can  be  called  in- 
different, to  whom  we  are  fo  nearly  allied  as  brethren  by  nature, 
^nd  brethren  in  mortality.  When  we  obferye  the  funerals  that  pafs 
along  the  flreets,  or  when  we  walk  among  the  monuments  of  death, 
the  firft  thing  that  naturally  ftrikes  us  is  the  undiftinguifhing  blow, 
\vith  which  that  common  enemy  levels  all.  We  behold  a  great  pro- 
mifcuous  multitude  all  carried  to  the  lame  abode  ;  all  lodged  in  the 
fame  dark  and  filent  manfions.  There,  mingle  perfons  of  every  age 
iind  character,  of  every  rank  and  condition  in  life  ;  the  young  and  the 
old,  the  poor  and  the  rich,  the  gay  and  the  grave,  the  renown- 
ed and  the  ignoble.  A  few  weeks  ago,  mod  of  thofe  whom  we 
I;iave  feen  carried  to  the  grave,  walked  about  as  we  do  now  on 
the  earth  ;  enjoyed  their  friends,  beheld  the  light  of  the  fun,  and 
^vere  forming  defigns  for  future  days.  Perhaps,  it  is  not  longfince 
they  were  engaged  in  fcenes  of  high  feftivity.  For  them,  perhaps, 
the  cheerful  company  ad'embled  ;  and  in  the  midfl  of  the  circle 
ihey  Ihone  with  gay  and  pleafmg  vivacity.  But  now — to  them, 
all  is  finally  clofed.  To  them,  no  more  fliall  the  feafons  return, 
or  the  fun  arife.  No  more  fliall  they  hear  the  voice  of  mirth,  or 
behold  the  face  of  man.  They  are  fwept  from  the  univerfe,  as 
though  they  had  never  been.  They  are  carried  away  as  with  a 
flood:  The  wind  has  pafjed  over  ihe?7i,  and  they  are  gone. 

When  we  contemplate  this  defolation  of  the  human  race ;  this 
final  termination  of  fo  many  hopes;  this  fiknce  that  now  reigns 

among 


On  Death,  I'^t 

among  thofe  who,  a  kittle  while  ago,  were  fo  bufy,  or  fo  gay; 
who  can  avoid  being  touched  with  lenfations  at  once  awful  and 
tender?  What  heart  but  then  warms  with  the  glow  of  humanity? 
In  whofe  eye  does  not  the  tear  gather,  on  revolving  the  fate  of 
pafling  and  ihort-lived  man?  Such  fenfations  are  fo  congenial  to 
human  nature,  that  they  are  attended  with  a  certain  kind  of  for- 
rowful  pleafure.  Even  voluptuaries  themfelves,  fometimes  indulge 
a  tafte  for  funeral  melancholy.  After  the  feftive  aflembly  is  dif- 
miflfed,  they  chufe  to  walk  retired  in  the  fhady  grove,  and  to  con- 
template the  venerable  iepuichres  of  their  anceftors.  This  me- 
lancholy pleafure  ariies  from  two  different  lentiments  meeting  at 
the  fame  time  in  the  breaft  ;  a  fympathetic  fenfe  of  the  (hortnefs 
and  vanity  of  life,  and  a  perfuafion  that  fomething  exifts  after 
4eath,  fentiments,  which  unite  at  the  view  of  the  houfe  appointed 
for  all  living,  A  tomb,  it  has  been  juftly  fa  id,  is  a  monument 
fituated  on  the  confines  of  both  worlds.  It,  at  once,  prefents 
to  us  the  termination  of  the  inquietudes  of  life,  and  fets  before 
us  the  image  of  eternal  reft.  There,  in  the  elegant  expreffions 
of  Job,  the  wicked  ceafd  from  troubling;  and  there  the  w^eary  be  at 
refl.  There  the  prifoners  refi  together  ;  they  hear  not  the  voice  of  the 
oppreffors.  The  fmall  and  the  great  are  there  ;  andthe  fervant  is  free 
from  his  mafier.  It  is  very  remarkable,  that  in  all  languages,  and 
among  all  nations,  death  has  been  defcribed  in  a  ftyle  of  this  kind; 
exprelTed  by  figures  of  fpeech,  which  convey  every  where  the 
fame  idea  of  reft,  or  fleep,  or  retreat  from  the  evils  of  life.  Such 
a  ftyle  perfectly  agrees  with  the  general  belief  of  the  fouPs  immor- 
tality ;  but  affuredly  conveys  no  high  idea  of  the  boafled  pleafares 
of  the  world.  It  ihows  how  much  all  mankind  have  felt  this  life 
to  be  a  fcene  of  trouble  and  care ;  and  have  agreed  in  opinion,  that 
pei-fe6t  reft  is  to  be  expelled  only  in  the  grave. 

There y  fays  Job,  are  the  fmall  and  the  great.  There  the  poor 
man  lays  down  at  laft  the  burden  of  his  wearifome  life.  No  more 
fl'jall  he  groan  under  the  load  of  poverty  and  toil.  No  more  /hall 
he  hear  the  infolentealls  of  the  raafter,  from  whom  he  received  his 
fcanty  wages.  No  more  lliall  he  be  railed  from  needful  flumber 
-on  his  bed  of  ftraw,  nor  be  hurried  away  from  his  homely  meal, 
to  undergo  the  repeated  labours  of  the  day.  While  his  humble 
-grave  is  prepiiring,  and  a  few  poor  and  decayed  neighbours  are 

carrying 


182  Cn  Death, 

carrying  him  thither,  it  is  good  for  us  to  think,  that  this  man  too 
was  our  brother ;  that  for  him  the  aged  and  dellitute  wife,  and  the 
needy  children  now  weep  ;  that,  neglected  as  he  was  by  the  world, 
he  poflefled  perhaps  both  a  found  underftanding,  and  a   worthy 
heart;  and  is  now  carried  by  angels  to  reft  in  Abraham's  bofom.  At 
no  great  diilance  from  him,  the  grave  is  opened  to  receive  the 
rich  and  proud  man.     For,  as  it  is  faid  with  emphafis  in  the  pa- 
rable, the  rich  man  alfo  died,  and  vjas  buried.^ — He  alfo  died.  His 
riches  prevented  not  his  fliaring  the  fame  fate  with  the  poor  man; 
perhaps,  through  luxury,  they  accelerated  his  doom.     Then,  in- 
deed, the  mourners  go  choui  the  ftreets ;  and  while,  in  all  the  pomp 
and  magnificence  of  woe,  his  funeral  is  prepared,  his  heirs,  in  the 
mean  time,   impatient  to  examine  his  will,  are  looking  on  one  a- 
nother  with  jealous  eyes,  and  already  beginning  to  quarrel  about 
the  divifion  of  his  fubftance.     One  day,  we  fee  carried  along  the 
cofHn  of  the  fmiling  infant;  the  flower  juft  nipped  as  it  began  to 
blolTom  in  the  parents'  view  :  and  the  next  day,  we  behold  the 
young  man,  or  young  woman,  of  blooming  form  and  promifmg 
hopes,  laid  in  an  untimely  grave.     While  the  funeral  is  attend- 
ed by  a  numerous,  unconcerned  company,  who  are  difcourfing  to 
one  another  about  the  news  of  the  day,  or  the  ordinary  affairs  of 
life,  let  our  thoughts  rather  follovv'  to  the  houfe  of  mourning,  and 
reprefent  to  themfelves    what  is  going  on  there.      There,  we 
would  fee  a  difconfolate  family,  fitting  in  filent  grief,  thinking  of 
the  fad  breach  that  is  made  in  their  little  fociety,  and,  with  tears 
in  their  eyes,  looking  to  the  chamber  that  is  now  left  vacant,  and 
to  every  memorial  that  prefents  itfelf  of  their  departed  friend. 
By  fuch  attention  to  the  woes  of  others,  the  felfifli  hardnefs  of 
our  hearts  will  be  gradually  foftened,  and  melted  down  into  hu- 
manity. 

Another  day,  we  follow  to  the  grave  one,  who,  in  old  age, 
and  after  a  long  career  of  life,  has  in  full  maturity  funk  at  laft  in- 
to reft.  As  we  are  going  along  to  the  manfion  of  the  dead,  it  is 
natural  for  us  to  think,  and  to  difcourfe,  of  all  the  changes  which 
fuch  a  perfon  has  feen  during  the  courfe  of  his  life.  He  has  pafs- 
ed,  it  is  likely,  through  varieties  of  fortune.  He  has  experi- 
enced profperity,  and  adverfity.  He  has  feen  families  and  kin- 
dreds rife  and  fall.     He  has  feen  peace  and  v/ar  fucceeding  in 

*  r   z.  •  ^^^^^^ 

*  Luke  J  xvi.  22. 


On  Death,  183 

their  turns  ;  the  face  of  his  country  undergoing  many  alterations; 
and  the  very  city  in  which  he  dwelt  rifing,  in  a  manner,  new  a^ 
round  him.     After  all  he  has  beheld,  his  eyes  are  now  clofed  for 
ever.     He  was  becoming  a  ftranger  in  the  midft  of  a  new  fuccef- 
fion  of  men.    A  race  who  knew  him  not,  had  arifen  to  fill  the  earth. 
Thus  pafles  the   world  away.     Throughout  all  ranks  and  condi- 
tions, one  generation  pajfdth,  and  another  generation  cometh  ;  and 
this  great  inn  is  by  turns  evacuated,  and  rcpleniihed,  by  troops 
of  fucceeding  pilgrims. — O  vain  and  inconftant  world  !  O  fleet- 
ing and  tranfient  life!  When  will  the  fons  of  men  learn  to  think 
of  thee,  as  they  ought?   When  will  they  learn  humanity  from  the 
afflictions  of  their  brethren  ;  or  moderation  and  wifdom,  from  the 
fenfe  of  their  own  fugitive  (late?  But,  now  to  come  nearer  to 
ourfelves,   let  us, 

II.  Co:^siDER  the  death  of  our  friends.  Want  of  reflection, 
or  the  long  habits,  cither  of  a  very  bufy,  or  a  very  difTipated  life, 
may  have  rendered  men  infenfible  to  all  fuch  obje6ls  as  I  have 
now  defcribed.  The  ftranger  and  the  unknown,  fall  utterly  un- 
noticed at  their  fide.  Life  proceeds  with  them  in  its  ufual  train, 
without  being  afFeded  by  events  in  which  they  take  no  perfonal 
concern.  But  the  diiTolution  of  thofe  ties  which  had  long  bound 
men  together,  in  intimate  and  familiar  union,  gives  a  painful 
fhock  to  every  heart.  When  a  family,  who,  for  years  had  been 
living  in  comfort  and  peace,  are  fuddenly  ihattered,  by  fome  of 
their  moft  beloved  or  refpected  members  being  torn  from  them ; 
when  the  hufband  or  the  fpoufe  are  feparated  for  ever  from  the 
companion  who,  amidlt  every  vicilTitude  of  fortune,  folaced  their 
life  ;  who  had  Ihared  all  their  joys,  and  participated  in  all  their 
forrows ;  when  the  weeping  parent  is  folding  in  his  arms  the  dy- 
ing child  whom  he  tenderly  loved ;  when  he  is  giving  his  lafl 
blefTing,  receiving  the  lad  fond  adieu,  looking  for  the  laft  time 
on  that  countenance,  now  wafting  and  faded,  which  he  had  once 
beheld  with  much  delight ;  then  is  the  time,  when  the  heart  is 
made  to  drink  all  the  bitternefs  of  human  woe. — But  I  feek  not 
to  wound  your  feelings  by  dwelling  on  thefe  fad  defcriptions.  Let 
us  rather  turn  our  thou^-hts  to  the  manner  in  which  fuch  events 

o 

ought  to  be  received  and  improved,  fmce  happen  they  muft  in  the 
life  of  man.  Then_, 


1 84  ^«  Death, 

Then,  indeed,  is  the  time  to  weep.     Let  not  a  falfe  idea  of 
fortitude,  or  miilaken  conceptions  of  religions  duty,  be  employed 
to  reiirain  the  burlVmg  eaiorion.    Let  the  heart  feek  its  relief,  in 
the  free  efFufion  of  juft  and  natural  forrow.     It  is  becoming  in  every 
one  to  fhow,  on  fuch  occafions,  that  he  feels,  as  a  man  ought  to 
feel.     At  the  fame  time,  let  moderation  temper  the  grief  of  a 
good  man  and  a  chriftian.     He  mu^  not  forrow  likeihofe  who  have  m 
h'jpe.     As  high  elation  of  fpirics  befits  not  the  joys,  fo  continued 
and  {)verw!ielii}ing  dejection  fnits  not  the  griefs  of  this  tranfitory 
world.     Grief,  when  it  goes  beyond  certain  bounds,  becomes  un- 
manly ;  when  it  lads  beyond  a  certain  time,  becomes  unfeafona- 
ble.     Let  him  not  rejei^  the  alleviation  which  time  brings  to  all 
the  wounds  of  the  heart,  but  fnffer  excefTive  grief  to  fubfide,  by 
deorees,  into  a  tender  and  affectionate  remembrance.     Let  him 
confider,  that  it  is  in  the  power  of  Providence  to  raife  him  up  o- 
ther  comforts  in  the  place  of  thofe  he  has  loft.     Or,  if  his  mind, 
at  prefent,  rejed  the  thoughts  of  fuch  confolation,  let  it  turn  for 
relief  to  the  profpecl  of  a  future  meeting  in  a  happier  world.     This 
is  indeed  the  chief  foother  of  affliftion ;  the  moft  powerful  balm 
of  the  bleeding  heart.     It  aiFifts  us  to  view  death,  as  no  more  than 
a  temporary  feparation  of  friends.     They  whom  we  have  loved 
ftill  live,  though  not  prefent  to  us.     They  are  only  removed  in- 
to a  different  manfion  in  the  houfe  of  the  common  Father. — The 
toils  of  their  pilgrimage  are  finiflied  ;  and  they  are  gone  to  the 
land  of  reft  and  peace.     They  are  gone  from  this  dark  and  trou- 
bled world,  to  join  the  great  affembly  of  the  juft  ;  and  to  dwell 
in  midft  of  everlafting  light. — In  due  time  we  hope  to  be  aflbciated 
with  them  in  thefe  blifsful  habitations.     Until  this  feafon  of  re-u- 
nion arrive,  no  principle  of  religion  difcourages  our  holding  corref- 
pondence  of  atfedion  with  them  by  means  of  faith  and  hope. 
Meanwhile,  let  us  refpe6l  the  virtues,  and  cherifli  the  me- 
mory of  the  deceafed.  Let  their  little  failings  be  now  forgotten. 
Let  us  dwell  on  what  Vs'as  amiable  in  their  character,  imitate  their 
worth,  and  trace  their  fteps.     By  this  means,  the  remembrance 
of  thofe  whom  we  loved  ihall  become  ufeful  and  improving  to  us, 
as  well  as  facrcd  and  dear;  if  we  accuftom  ourfelves  to  confider 
them  as  ftill  fpeakiag,  and  exhorting  us  to  all  that  is  good  ;   if,  in 
lituations  where  our  virtue  is  tried,  we  call  up  their  refpe6ted  i- 

dea 


On  Death,  185 

dea  to  view,  and,  as  placed  in  tlieir  pre  fence,  think  of  the  part 
which  we  could  acl  before  them  wiilicut  a  blufli. 

Moreover,  let  the  remembrance  of  the  friends  whom  we  have 
loft,  ftrengihen  our  affei5lion  to  thofe  that  remain.  The  narrow- 
er the  circle  becomes  of  thofe  we  love,  let  us  draw  the  clofer  to- 
gether. Let  the  heart  that  has  been  foftened  by  forrow,  mel- 
low into  gentlenefs  and  kindnefs  ;  make  liberal  allowance  for  the 
weaknefles  of  others;  and  divert  itfelf  of  the  little  prejudices  that 
may  have  formerly  prepoflefied  it  againft  them.  The  greater  ha- 
vock  that  death  has  made  among  our  friends  on  earth,  let  us  cul- 
tivate conncclion  more  with  God,  and  heaven,  and  virtue.  Let 
thofe  noble  views  which  man's  immortal  character  affords,  fill  and 
exalt  our  minds.  PalTengcrs  only  through  his  fublunary  region, 
let  our  thoughts  often  afcend  to  that  divine  country,  which  we 
are  taught  to  confider  as  the  native  feat  of  the  foul.  There,  we 
form  connexions  that  are  never  broken.  There,  we  meet  with 
friends  who  never  die.  Among  celeftial  things  there  is  firm  and 
lafting  conftancy,  while  all  that  is  on  earth  changes  and  pafles  a- 
way.  Such  are  fome  of  the  fruits  we  fliould  reap  from  the  ten- 
der feelings  excited  by  the  death  of  friends. — But  they  are  not  on- 
ly our  friends  who  die.  Our  enemies  alfo  muft  go  to  their  long 
home.     Let  us,  therefore, 

III,  Consider  how  we  ought  to  be  affected,  when  they  from 
whom  fufpicions  have  alienated,  or  rivalry  has  divided  us;  they 
•with  v^hom  we  have  long  contended,  or  by  whom  we  imagine 
ourfelves  to  have  fuffered  wrong,  are  laid,  or  about  to  be  laid,  in 
the  grave.  How  inconfiderable  then  appear  thofe  broils  in  which 
we  had  been  long  involved,  thofe  contefts  and  feuds  which  we 
thought  were  to  laij^for  ever?  The  awful  moment  that  now  ter- 
minates them,  makes  us  feel  their  vanity.  If  there  be  a  fpark  of 
humanity  left  in  the  breaft,  the  remembrance  of  cur  common  fate 
then  awakens  it.  Is  there  a  man,  Vv'ho,  if  he  were  admitted  to 
ftand  by  the  death-bed  of  his  bittereft  enemy,  and  beheld  him  en- 
during that  conflict  which  human  nature  muft  fuiier  at  the  laft, 
would  not  be  inclined  to  ftretch  forth  the  hand  of  friendfiiip,  to 
utter  the  voice  of  forgivenefs,  and  to  wifn  for  perfed  recoucilia- 
ation  with  him  before  he  left  the  world  ?  Who  is  there  that,  when 
he  beholds  the  remaius  of  his  adverfary  depofued  in  the  duft,  feels 

not. 


i86  Cn  Death. 

not,  in  that  moment,   fome  relentings  at  the  remembrance   of 

thole  pjift  anin.ofities   which  mutually  embittered  their  life? 

'*  There  lies  the  man  with  whom  I  contended  fp  long,  filent 
"  and  mute  forever.  He  is  fallen  ;  and  I  am  about  to  follow 
"  him.  How  poor  is  the  advantage  which  I  now  enjoy?  Where 
'^  are  the  fruits  of  all  our  contelts  ?  In  a  fliort  time  we  (hall  be 
*^  laid  together,  and  no  remembrance  remain  of  either  of  us, 
"  under  the  fun.  How  many  miftakes  mjay  there  have  been  be- 
*'  tvveen  us?  Had  not  he  his  virtues  and  good  qualities  as  well  as 
"  1  ?  When  we  fhall  both  appear  before  the  judgment-feat  of 
'^  God,  fl]all  1  be  found  innocent,  and  free  of  blame,  for  all 
"  the  enmity  I  have  borne  to  him?'' My  friends,  let  the  an- 
ticipation of  fuch  fentiments,  fcrve  now  to  corred  the  invetera- 
cy of  prejudice,  to  cool  the  heat  of  anger,  to  allay  the  fiercenefs 
of  refentment.  How  unnatural  is  it  for  animofities  fo  lafting  to 
pofTefs  the  hearts  of  mortal  men,  that  nothing  can  extinguifh  them, 
but  the  cold  hand  of  death  .-'  Is  there  not  a  fufRcient  proportion 
of  evils  in  the  fhort  fpan  of  human  life,  that  we  feek  to  increafe 
their  number,  by  rufliing  into  unnecefiary  contefts  with  one  ano- 
ther? When  a  few  funs  more  have  rolled  over  our  heads,  friends 
and  foes  (liall  have  retreated  together;  and  their  love  and  their 
hatred  be  equally  buried.  Let  our  few  days,  then,  be  fpent  in 
peace.  While  we  are  all  journeying  onwards  to  death,  let  us 
rather  bear  one  another^ s  burdens,  than  harrafs  one  another  by  the 
way.— Let  us  fmooth  and  cheer  the  road  as  much  as  we  can,  ra- 
ther than  fill  the  valley  of  our  pilgrimage  with  the  hateful  monu- 
ments of  our  contention  and  ftrife. 

Thus  1  have  fet  before  you  fome  of  thofe  meditations  which  are 
naturally  fuggefted  by  the  prevalence  of  dq^h  around  us;  by  the 
death  of  ftrangers,  of  friends,  and  of  enemies.  Becaufe  topics 
of  this  nature  are  obvious,  let  it  not  be  thought  that  they  are 
without  ufe.     They  require  to  be  recalled,  repeated,  and  enforced. 

Moral  and  religious  indrucTion  derives  its  efficacy,  not  fo  much 

from  what  men  are  taught  to  know,  as  from  what  they  are  brought 
to  feel.  It  is  not  the  dormant  knowledge  of  any  truths,  but  the 
vivid  impreflion  of  them,  which  has  influence  on  pracTice.  Nei- 
ther let  it  be  thought,  that  fuch  meditaiions  are  unfeafonable  in- 
trufions  upon  thole  who  are  living  in  health,  in  ailluence,  and  eale. 
There  is  no  hazard  of  their  making  too  deep  or  painful  an  impref- 

fion. 


9 
,     On  Death,  i  ^y 

(ion.  The  gloom  which  they  occafion  is  tranficnt ;  and  will  foon, 
too  foon,  it  is  probable,  be  difpelled  by  thefucceeding  affairs  and 
pleafiires  of  the  world.  To  wifdom  it  certainly  belongs  that  men 
ihould  be  impre'Ted  with  juft  views  of  their  nature,  and  their  ftate: 
and  the  pleafures  of  life  will  always  be  enjoyed  to  nioft  advantcjge 
when  they  are  tempered  with  ferious  thought.  There  is  a  time 
to  mourn  as  well  as  a  time  to  rejoice.  There  is  a  virtuous  forrowy 
which  is  better  than  laughter.  There  is  ^fatltiefs  of  the  counienancey 
by  which  the  heart  is  made  better. 

Y  SERMON 


C     iS8    ]   . 

SERMON      XXXVL 

On  the  Progress  of  Vice. 

I  Corinthians^  xv.  33. 
Be  720i  deceived.'  Evil  conimumcaiiom  corrupt  good  manner j, 

THOUGH  human  nature  be  now  fallen  from  its  original  ho 
nour,  feveral  good  princ  pies  ihll  remain  in  the  hearts  of 
men.  There  are  few,  if  any,  on  whofe  minds  the  reverence  for 
a  Supreme  Being  continues  not,  in  fome  degree,  imprefled.  In 
every  breaft,  fome  benevolent  affections  are  found  ;  and  confcience 
ftill  retains  a  fenfe  of  the  diftindion  between  moral  good  and  evil, 
Thefe  principles  of  virtue  are  always  fufceptible  of  improvement  • 
and,  in  favourable  fituations,  might  have  a  happy  influence  on 
pradice.  But  fuch  is  the  frailty  of  our  nature,  and  fo  numerous 
are  the  temptations  to  evil,  that  they  are  in  perpetual  hazard  of 
being  either  totally  effaced,  or  fo  far  weakened,  as  to  produce  no 
cfFod:  on  our  conducl.  They  are  good  feeds  originally  fown  in  the 
heart ;  but  which  require  culture,  in  order  to  make  them  rife  to 
any  maturity.  If  left  without  afTiftance,  they  are  likely  to  be  ftifled, 
by  that  profufion  of  noxious  weeds  which  the  foil  fends  forth 
around  them. 

Among  the  numerous  caufes  which  introduce  corruption  into 
the  henrt,  and  accelerate  its  growth,  none  is  more  unhappily 
powerful  than  that  which  is  pointed  out  in  the  text,  under  the 
defcription  of  evil  comtmmications ;  that  is,  the  contagion  which  is 
diffufed  by  bad  examples,  and  heightened  by  particular  connedlions 
withperlbnsof  loofe  principles,  or  difToIute  morals. — This,  in  a  li- 
centious ftate  of  fociety,  is  the  mofl  common  fource  of  thofe  vices 
and  diforders  which  fo  much  abound  in  great  cities;  and  oft- 
en proves,  in  a  particular  manner,  fatal  to  the  young;  even  to 
tkem  whofe  beginnings  were  once  auipicious  and  promiilng.     It 

may 


On  the  l^rogrefs  of  Vice.  1S9 

may  therefore  be  an  ufeful  employment  of  attention,  to  trace  the 
progrels  of  this  principle  of  corruption  ;  to  examine  the  means  by 
which  <?i;i/  coinmunkations  gradually  undermine,  and  at  laft  deftroy 
good  manners,  or  (which  here  is  the  proper  fignification  of  the  ori- 
ginal word)  good  morals.  It  is  indeed  diiagreeable  to  contemplate 
human  nature,  in  this  downward  courfe  of  its  progrefs.  But  it 
is  always  profitable  to  know  our  own  infirmities  and  dangers.  The 
confideration  of  them  will  lead  me  to  luggell  (ome  of  the  means 
proper  to  be  ufed  for  preventing  the  mifchiefs  arifing  from  evil 
communications. 

Agreeably  to  what  I  obferved  of  certain  virtuous  principles 
being  inherent  in  human  nature,  there  are  few  but  who  fet  out 
at  firlt  on  the  world  with  good  difpofitions.  The  warmth  which 
belongs  to  youth,  naturally  exerts  itfelf  in  generous  feelings  and 
fentiments  of  honour ;  in  flrong  attachment  to  friends,  and  the 
other  emotions  of  a  kind  and  tender  heart.  Almoft  all  the  plans 
with  which  perfons  who  have  been  liberally  educated  begin  the 
world,  are  connedied  with  honourable  views.  At  that  period, 
they  repudiate  whatever  is  mean  or  bale.  It  is  pleafing  to  them 
to  think,  of  commanding  the  efteem  of  thofe  among  whom  they 
live,  and  of  acquiring  a  name  among  men.  But  alas  !  how  foon 
does  this  flattering  profped:  begin  to  be  overcaft.  Defires  of 
pleafure  uflier  in  temptation,  and  forward  the  growth  of  difor- 
derly  palTions.  Minifters  of  vice  are  feldom  wanting  to  encou^ 
rage,  and  flatter,  the  paffions  of  the  young.  Inferiors  fludy  to 
creep  into  favor,  by  fervile  obfequioufncfs  to  all  their  defires  and 
humours. — Glad  to  find  any  apology  for  the  indulgences  of  which 
they  are  fond,  the  young  too  readily  liften  to  the  voice  of  thofe 
who  fuggeft  to  them,  that  ftrift  notions  of  religion,  order,  and 
virtue,  are  old  fafhioned  and  illiberal ;  that  the  reftraints  which 
they  impofe  are  only  fit  to  be  prefcribed  to  thofe  who  are  in  the 
iirft  flage  of  pupillage ;  or  to  be  preached  to  the  vulgar,  who 
ought  to  be  kept  within  the  clofefl  bounds  of  regularity  and  fub- 
jeclion.  But  the  goodnefs  of  their  hearts,  it  is  infinuated  to  them, 
and  the  liberality  of  their  views,  will  fully  juftify  their  emanci- 
pating themfelves,  in  fome  degree,  from  the  rigid  difcipiine  of 
parents  and  teachers. 


ipo  On  the  Prrrrfjs  of  p'lce. 

Soothing  as  fuch  infinuations  are  \h  the  youthfnl,  and  incon- 
fiderate,  their  firfl:  fteps,  however,  in  vice,  are  cautious  and  ti- 
mid, and  cccafionally  checked  by  reniorfe.  As  they  begin  to 
mingle  rr-ore  in  the  v/orld,  and  eiiierge  into  the  circles  of  gaiety 
and  pleafure,  finding  ihefc  lo^fe  ideas  countenanced  by  too  gene- 
ral pracflice,  they  gradually  become  bolder  in  the  liberties  they 
take.  If  they  have  been  bred  to  bufinefs,  ilicy  begin  to  tire  of 
indullry,  and  look  with  contempt  on  the  plodding  race  of  citi- 
zens. If  they  be  of  fuperior  rank,  they  think  it  becomes  them  to 
refemble  their  equals  ;  to  aflljine  that  freedom  of  behaviour,  that 
air  of  forwardnefs,  that  tone  of  diiTipation,  that  eafy  negligence 
of  thofe  with  whom  they  converfe,  which  appear  fadiionable  in 
high  life,  If  affluence  of  fortune  unhappily  concur  to  favor  their 
inclinations,  amufcments  and  diverfions  fucceed  in  a  perpetual 
round ;  night  and  day  are  confounded  ;  gaming  fills  up  their  va- 
cant intervals;  they  live  wholly  in  public  places;  they  run  into 
many  degrees  of  excefs,  difagreeable  even  to  thcmfelves,  merely 
from  weak  complair;ince,  and  the  fear  of  being  ridiculed  by  their 
ioofe  affociates.  Among  thefe  alTociates,  the  mofl  hardened  and 
determined  always  take  the  lead.  The  refl:  follow  them  v>ith  im- 
plicit fubmiffion  ;  and  make  proficiency  in  this  fchool  of  iniquity, 
in  exad  proportion  to  the  vveaknefs  of  their  underftandings,  and 
the  ftrength  of  their  pafTions. 

How  many  pafs  away,  after  this  manner,  fome  of  the  mod: 
valuable  years  of  their  life,  tofTed  in  a  whirlpool  of  what  cannot 
be  called  pleafure,  fo  much  as  mere  giddinefs  and  folly  ?  In  the 
habits  of  perpetual  connection  with  idle  or  licentious  company,  all 
refieclion  is  loft  ;  while,  circulated  from  one  empty  head,  and 
one  thoughtlefs  heart,  to  another,  folly  fiioots  up  into  all  its  moft 
ridiculous  forms:  prompts  the  extravagant,  unmeaning  frolic  in 
private  ;  or  fallies  forth  in  public  into  mad  riot  ;  impelled  fome- 
limes  by  intoxication,  fometimes  by  mere  levity  of  fpirits. 

All  the  while,  amidft  this  whole  courfe  of  juvenile  infatuation, 
I  readily  admit,  that  much  good  natUi'e  may  Hill  remain.  Gene- 
rufity  and  attachments  may  be  found  ;  nay,  fome  awe  of  religion 
may  ftiil  fublift,  and  fome  remains  of  thofe  good  imprellions  which 
were  made  upon  the  mind  iii  early  i\:\)'s.     It  might  yet  be  very 

polTible 


On  the  Progrefs  of  Vice,  i  pi 

polTible  to  reclaim  fuch  perfons,  and  to  form  thern  for  ufeful  and 
refpetftdble  itatioos  in  the  world,  if  virtuous  and  improving  focie- 
iy  fhoald  happily  fucceed  to  the  place  of  that  idle  crew  with  whom 
they  now  alTociute  ;  if  important  bufinefs  fl^.ould  occur,  to  bring 
them  into  a  dilFerent  fphere  of  adlion  ;  or,  if  fome  feafonable  ftroke 
of  afflidtion  fhould  ifi  mercy  be  fent,  to  recall  them  to  themfelves, 
and  to  awaken  ferious  and  manly  thoughts.  But,  if  youth  and 
vigour,  and  flowing  fortune  continue  ;  if  a  fimilar  fuccefiion  of 
companions,  go  on  to  amufe  them,  to  engrofs  their  time,  and  to 
ftir  up  their  padions;  the  day  of  ruin, — let  them  take  heed  and 

beware ! the  day  of  irrecoverable  ruin,  begins  to  draw  nigh. 

Fortune  is  fquandered ;  health  is  broken  ;  friends  are  offended, 
affronted,  eftranged  ;  aged  parents,  perhaps,  fent  afflided  and 
mournino-  to  the  duft. 

o 

There  are  certain  degrees  of  vice  which  are  chiefly  (tamped 
with  the  charad:er  of  the  ridiculous,  and  the  contemptible  :  and 
there  are  alio  certain  limits,  beyond  which  if  it  pafs,  it  becomes 
odious  and  execrable. — If,  to  other  corruptions  which  the  heart 
has  already  received,  be  added  the  infufion  of  fceptical  principles, 
that  worll  of  all  the  evil  communications  of  Tinners,  the  whole  of 
morals  is  then  on  the  point  of  being  overthrown. — For,  every 
crime  can  then  be  palliated  to  confcience  ;  every  check  and  re- 
flraint  which  had  hitherto  remained,  is  taken  away.  He  who,  in 
the  beginning  of  his  courfe,  foothed  himfelf  with  the  thought^ 
that  while  he  indulged  his  defires,  he  did  hurt  to  no  man  ;  new, 
preifed  by  the  necelfity  of  fupplying  thofe  wants  into  which  his 
expenfive  pleafures  have  brought  him,  goes  on  without  remorfe 
to  defraud,  and  to  opprefs.  The  lover  of  pleafure,  now  becomes 
hardened  and  cruel ;  violates  his  truft,  or  betrays  his  friend ;  be- 
comes a  man  of  treachery,  or  a  man  of  blood  ;  fatisfyino-,  or  at 
lead  endeavouring  all  the  while  to  fatisfy  himfelf,  that  circum- 
ftances  form  his  excufe  ;  that  by  neceflity  he  is  impelled  ;  and 
that,  in  gratifying  the  paffions  which  nature  had  implanted  with- 
in him,  he  does  no  more  than  follow  nature Miferable  and 

deluded  man  !  to  what  art  thou  come  at  the  laft  ?  Doll  thou  pre- 
tend to  follow  nature,  when  thou  art  contemning  the  laws  of  the 
God  of  nature  ?  when  thou  art  {titling  his  voice  within  thee,  which 
reiHondrates  agniiift  thy  crimes  I  when  thou  art  violating  the  beft 

part 


,Q2  On  the  Progrep  of  Vice, 

part  of  thy  nature,  by  counteracting  the  dictates  of  juflice  and  hu- 
manity ?  Doft  thou  follow  nature,  when  thou  rendered  thyfelf 
an  ufelefs  animal  on  the  earth;  and  not  ufelefs  only,  but  noxi- 
ous to  the  fociety  to  which  thou  belongeft,  and  to  which  thou  art 
a  difgrace;  noxious,  by  the  bad  example  thou  haft  fet  ;  noxious, 
by  the  crimes  thou  haft  committed ;  facrificing  innocence  to  thy 
guilty  pleafures,  and  introducing  fliame  and  ruin  into  the  habita- 
tions of  peace  ;  defrauding  of  their  due  the  unfufpicious  who  have 
trufted  thee  ;  involving  in  the  ruins  of  thy  fortune  many  a  wor- 
thy family  ;  reducing  the  induftrious  and  the  aged  to  mifery  and 
want ;  by  all  which,  if  thou  haft  efcaped  the  delerved  fword  of 
juftice,  thou  haft  at  leaft  brought  on  thyfelf  the  refentment,  and 

the  reproach  of  all  the  refpectable  and  the  worthy. Tremble 

then  at  the  view  of  the  gulph  which  is  opening  before  thee.  Look 
with  horror  at  the  precipice,  on  the  brink  of  which  thou  ftandeft  : 
and  if  yet  a  moment  be  left  for  retreat,  think  how  thou  may  eft 
efcape,  and  be  faved. 

This  brings  me  to  what  I  propofed  as  the  next  head  of  dif- 
courfe  ;  to  ibggeft  fome  means  that  may  be  ufed  for  ftopping  in 
time  the  progrefs  of  fuch  mifchiefs ;  to  point  out  fome  remedies 
arrainft  the  fatal  infection  o^  evil  cGinmunications. 

The  firft  and  moft  obvious  is,  to  withdraw  from  all  aflbciations 
with  bad  men,  with  perfons  either  of  licentious  principles,  or  of 
diibrderly  conduct.  I  have  fliown  to  what  iiTus  fuch  dangerous 
connections  are  apt  to  bring  men  to  at  laft.  Nothing,  therefore, 
is  of  more  importance  for  the  young,  to  whom  I  now  chiefly  ad- 
drefs  myfelf,  than  to  be  careful  in  the  choice  of  their  friends  and 
companions.  This  choice  is  too  frequently  made  without  much 
thought,  or  is  determined  by  fome  cafual  connecT;ion  ;  and  yet, 
very  ctren,  the  whole  fate  of  their  future  life  depends  upon  it. 
The  circuaiftances  which  chiefly  attract  the  liking  and  the  friend- 
ftiip  of  youth,  are  vivacity,  good  humour,  engaging  manners, 
and  p.  chearful  or  eafy  temper;  qualities,  1  confefs,  amiable  in 
themfelves,  and  ufeful  and  valuable  in  their  place. — But  I  intreat 
you  to  remember,  that  thefe  are  not  all  the  qualities  requifite  to 
form  an  intimate  companion  or  friend.  Somethiijg  more  is  ftill 
to  be  looked  for  ;  a  found  underftanding,  a  fteady  mind,  a  firm 
attachment  to  principle,  to  virtue^  and  horiour.     As  only  folid 

bodies 


On  the  Progrefs  of  Vice.  193 

bodies  polifli  well,  it  is  only  on  the  fubftantial  ground  of  tbefe 
manly  endowments,  that  the  other  amiable  qualities  can  receive 
their  proper  luftre.  Deftitute  of  thefe  efTeniial  requifites,  they 
ihine  with  no  more  than  a  linfel  brilliancy.  It  may  Ipajkle  for  a 
little,  amidil  a  few  circles  of  the  frivolous,  and  fuperticial ;  but 
it  impofes  not  on  the  difcernment  of  the  public.  The  world  in 
general  feldom,  after  a  Ihort  trial,  judges  amifs  of  the  characters 
of  men.  You  may  be  afTured,  that  its  character  of  you  will  be 
formed  by  the  company  you  frequent ;  and  how  agreeable  loever 
they  may  feem  to  be,  if  nothing  is  to  be  found  among  them  but 
hollow  qualities,  and  external  accomplifljments,  they  foon  fall  down 
into  the  clafs,  at  bell,  of  the  infignificant,  perhaps  of  the  .worth- 
lefs;  and  you  fink,  of  courfe,  iu  the  opinion  of  the  public,  into 
the  fame  defpicable  rank. 

Allow  me  to  warn  you,  that  the  mofl  gay  and  pleafing,  are 
fon7etimes  the  mod:  infidious  and  dangerous  companions;  an  ad- 
monition which  refpe^ts  both  the  fexes.  Often  they  attach  them- 
felves  to  you  from  interefted  motives  ;  and  if  any  taint  or  fufpicion 
lie  on  their  charader,  under  the  covoi'of  your  rank,  your  fortune 
or  your  good  reputation,  they  feek  protedion  tor  themfelves. 
Look  round  you  then,  with  an  attentive  eye,  and  weigh  charac- 
ters well  before  you  connect  yourfelves  too  clofely  with  any  who 
court  your  fociety.  He  that  "walketh  with  wife  men  JJudl  be  rvife : 
but  a  companion  of  fools  Jliali  be  dejiroyed.  W  herefore,  enter  not 
thou  into  the  counfel  of  the  /corner.  Walk  ?20t  in  the  way  with  evil 
men  ;  avoid  it ;  pafs  not  by  it,  turn  from  it,  and  pafs  away.  * 

Jn  order  to  prevent  the  influence  of  evil  communications,  it  is 
farther  needful,  that  you  fix  to  yourfelves  certain  principles  of  con - 
du6f,  and  be  refolved  and  determined  on  no  occalion  to  fwerve 
from  them.  Setting  the  confideration  of  religion  and  virtue  afide, 
and  attending  merely  to  intereft  and  reputation,  it  will  be  found, 
that  he  who  enters  on  adive  life  without  having  alcertained  fome 
regular  plan,  according  to  which  he  is  to  guide  himfelf, 
will  be  unprofperous  in  the  whole  of  his  fubfequent  progrefs. 
But  when  conduct  is  viewed  in  a  moral  and  religious 
light,  the  efted:  of  having  fixed  no  principles  of  adion  ;  of  hav- 
ing formed  no  laudable  Ikndard  of  character,  becomes  more  ob- 
vioufly  fatal.  For  hence  it  is^  that  the  young  aod  thougbtlefs  im- 
bibe 
*  Prov,  xiii.  20.         Prov.  iv,  14. 


3^4  On  ihe  Prcgrefs  of  Vice. 

bibe  fo  readily  tbe  poifon  of  till  ccmnMmcatiom,  and  fall  a  prey  to 
every  feducer.  They  have  no  internal  guide  whcm  they  are  ac- 
cuftomed  to  follow  and  obey  ;  nothing  v.ithin  themfelves,  that  can 
give  firmnefs  to  their  conducl.  They  are  of  courfethe  viftims  of 
momentary  inclination  or  caprice  ;  religious  and  good  by  ftarts, 
when,  during  the  abfence  of  temptation  and  ten:pters,  the  vir- 
tuous principle  ftirs  v\  ithin  them  ;  but  never  long  the  fame  ;  chang- 
iniT  and  fluciuating  according  to  the  pafllon  that  chances  to  rife, 
or  the  infiigation  of  thofe  with  whom  they  have  connected  them- 
I'elves. — They  are  failing  on  a  dangerous  fea,  which  abounds  with 
rocks ;  without  compafs,  by  which  to  direcl  their  ccurfe,  or  helm, 
by  which  to  guide  the  vefiel.  Whereas,  if  they  aded  on  a  fyftem, 
if  their  behaviour  made  it  appear  that  they  were  determined  to 
conducl  themfelves  by  certain  rules  and  principles,  not  only  would 
they  efcape  innumerable  dangers,  but  they  would  ccmniund  ref« 
ped  from  the  licentious  themielves.  Evil  doers  would  ceafe  to 
lay  their  fnares  for  one  w  hem  they  favv  moving  above  them,  in  a 
higher  fphere,  and  with  a  more  fteady  courfe. 

As  a  farther  corrective  of  cril  curmrunkatlons^  and  as  a  founda- 
tion to  thofe  principles  which  you  lay  down  for  condud,  let  me 
advife  you  fometinies  to  think  ferioufly,  of  what  conftitutes  real 
enjoyment  and  happinefs.  Your  days  cannot  be  entirely  fpent  in 
company  and  pleafure.  How  clofely  foever  you  arc  furrounded 
and  befieged  by  evil  companions,  there  muft  be  fome  intervals, 
in  which  you  are  left  by  yourfelves ;  v;hcn,  after  all  the  turbu- 
lence of  amufement  is  over,  your  mind  w  ill  naturally  aflume  a 
V^raver  and  more  penfive  caft.  Thefe  are  precious  intervals  to 
you,  if  you  knew  their  value.  Seize  that  fobcr  hour  of  retirement 
and  filence.  Indulge  the  meditations  which  then  begin  to  rife.  Call 
your  eye  backwards  on  what  is  paft  of  your  life;  look  forward  to 
what  is  probably  to  come.  Think  of  the  part  ycu  are  now  ail- 
ing ;  and  of  what  remains  to  be  aded,  perhaps  to  be  fuflered, 
before  you  die.  llien  is  the  time  to  form  your  plans  of  happi- 
nefs, not  merely  for  the  next  day,  but  for  the  general  courfe  of 
your  life.  Remember,  that  what  is  pleallng  to  you  at  twenty, 
will  not  be  equally  fo  at  forty  or  fifty  years  of  age;  and  that 
what  continues  longell  pleafmg,  is  always  moft  valuable.  Recol- 
le6l  your  own   feelings  in  diiterent  fcenes  cf  life.     Inquire  on 

what 


On  the  Progrefs  of  Vice.  t% 

what  occafions  you  have  felt  the  rrueft  fatisfaflion  ;  whether  days 
ot  Ibbnety,  and  rational  employnient,  have  not  left  behind  them 
a  more  agreeable  remembrance,  than  nights  of  licentioafnefs  and 
riot.  Look  round  you  on  the  world  ;  refled  on  the  different  fo- 
cieties  which  have  fallen  under  your  obfervation  ;  and  think  who 
among  them  appear  to  enjoy  life  to  mofl:  advantage;  whether 
they  who,  encircled  by  gay  companions,  are  conftantly  fatiguing 
themfelvcs  in  queft  of  pleafure  ;  or  they  to  whom  plealure  comes 
unfuught,  in  the  courfe  of  an  adive,  virtuous,  and  manly  life. 
Compare  together  thefe  two  clalTes  of  mankind,  and  alk  your  own 
hearts,  to  which  of  them  you  would  choofe  to  belong.  If,  in  a 
happy  moment,  the  light  of  truth  begins  to  break  in  upon  you, 
refufe  not  admittance  to  the  ray.  If  your  hearts  fecretly  re- 
proach you  for  the  wrong  choice  you  have  made,  bethink  youjp*. 
ielves  that  the  evil  is  not  irreparable.  Still  there  is  time  for  re- 
pentance and  retreat ;  and  a  return  to  wildom,  is  alwayshonourable^ 

Were  fuch  meditations  often  indulged,  the  evil  communtcations 
of  finners  would  die  away  before  them  ;  the  force  of  their  poifon 
would  evaporate  ;  the  world  would  begin  to  afliime  in  your  eyes 
a  new  form  and  fhape. — Difdain  not,  in  thefe  folitary  hours,  to 
recoiled:  what  the  wifeft  have  faid,  and  have  written  concerning 
human  happinefs,  and  human  vanity.  Treat  not  their  opinions,  as 
etrulions  merely  of  peeviflinefs  or  difappointment :  but  believe 
them  to  be,  what  they  truly  are,  the  refult  of  long  experience, 
and  thorough  acquaintance,  with  the  world.  Coniider  that  the 
feafon  of  youth  is  paliing  fafl  away.  It  is  time  for  you  to  be 
taking  meafures  for  an  eftablifliment  in  life;  nay,  it  were  wife  to 
be  looking  forward  to  a  placid  enjoyment  of  old  age.  That  is  a 
period  you  wifh  to  fee;  but  how  miferable  when  it  arrives,  if  1$ 
yield  you  nothing  but  the  dregs  of  life;  and  prefent  no  retrof- 
ped,  except  that  of  a  though tlefs,  and  di/honoured  youth  ! 

Let  me  once  more  advife  you,  to  look  forward  fometimes  be- 
yond old  age  ;  to  look  to  a  future  world.  Amidft  evil  communica* 
tions,  let  your  belief,  and  ycur  character  as  Chriftians,  arife  tp 
your  view.  Think  of  the  facred  name  in  which  you  were  baptiz- 
ed. Think  of  the  God  whom  your  fathers  honouied  and  wor- 
fhipped;  of  the  rehgion  in  which  they  trained  you  up;  of  the  ve- 
nerable rites  in  which  they  brought  you  to  partake.     Their  pater- 

:g  "  iial 


j()6  On  the  Progrefs  of  Vice. 

^lal  cares  have  now  ceafed.  They  have  finifiied  their  earthly 
courfe  :  and  the  time  is  coming  when  you  muft  follow  them.  You 
know  that  you  are  not  to  live  always  here  ;  and  you  furely  do  not 
believe  that  your  exiftence  is  to  end  with  this  life.  Into  what 
world  then  are  you  next  to  go?  Whom  will  you  meet  with  there? 
Before  whofe  tribunal  are  you  to  appear?  What  account  will  you 
be  able  to  give  of  your  prefent  trifling  and  irregular  condud:  to 
liim  who  made  you? — Such  thoughts  may  be  treated  as  unfeafon- 
able  intrufions.  But  intrude  they  fometimes  will,  whether  you 
make  them  welcome  or  not.  Better  then,  to  allow  them  free  re« 
ception  when  they  come,  and  to  confider  fairly  to  what  they  lead. 
You  have  feen  perfons  die ;  at  Icaft,  you  have  heard  of  your 
friends  dying  near  you.  Did  it  never  enter  into  your  minds,  to 
think  what  their  laft  reflexions  probably  were  in  their  concluding 
moments  ;  or  what  your  own,  in  fuch  a  fituation,  would  be? — 
What  would  be  then  your  hopes  and  fears ;  what  part  you  would 
then  wi(h  to  have  aded  ;  in  what  light  your  clofing  eyes  would 
then  view  this  life,  and  this  world? 

These  are  thoughts,  my  friends,  too  important  to  be  always 
excluded.  Thefe  are  things  too  folemn  and  awful  to  be  trifled 
with.  They  are  fuperior  to  all  the  ridicule  of  fools.  They 
come  home  to  every  man's  bofom,  and  are  entitled  to  every  man's 
liighefl:  attention.  Let  us  regard  them  as  becomes  reafonable  and 
mortal  creatures;  and  they  will  prove  effedual  antidotes  to  the 
evil  cormnnnications  of  petulent  fcoffers.  When  vice  or  folly  arife 
to  tempt  us  under  flattering  forms,  let  the  ferious  characler  which 
.Ave  bear  as  men,  come  alfo  forward  to  view ;  and  let  the  folemn 
admonitions,  with  which  I  conclude,  found  full  in  our  ears,  I\jy 
Jbriy  if  finners  entice  thee,  confent  thou  not.  Come  out  from  amongfl 
them,  and  he  feparate.  Remember  thy  Creator  in  the  days  of  thy 
youth  n  Fear  the  Lord,  and  depart  from  evil.  The  way  of  life  is  a- 
hove  to  the  vj'ife ;  and  he  that  keepetb  the  commandment,  keepeth  his 
ewnfouL* 

SER- 

*  Prcv.  i.  10.     2  Corinth,  vi.  17.     Ecc/efxu.  1,    Prov,  xv.  24* 


SERMON      XXXVIL 
On    Fortitude. 

Psalm  xxvH.  3. 
Though  an  hofi  JJ^ould  encamp  againjl  me,  my  heart  fhall  not  fear, -^ 

THIS  world  is  a  region  of  danger,  in  which  perfect  fafety  is 
poflelTed  by  no  man.  Though  we  live  in  times  of  eftabliflied 
tranquil  J  ity,  when  there  is  no  ground  to  apprehend  that  an  hoft  fiiali, 
in  the  literal  fenfe,  encamp  again/}  us ;  yet  every  man,  from  one 
quarter  or  other,  has  fornewhat  to  dread.  Riches  often  make  to 
themfe/vef  wings  and  flee  away.  The  firmeft  health  may  in  a  mo- 
ment be  (liaken.  The  moft  flourifhing  family  may  unexpectedly 
be  fcattered.  The  appearances  of  our  fecurity  are  frequently  de- 
ceitful.—  \Vhen  our  fey  feems  moll  fettled  and  lerene,  in  fomeun- 
obferved  quarter  gathers  the  little  black  cloud,  in  which  the  tempef!: 
ferments,  and  prepares  to  difcharge  itlelf  on  our  head.  Such  is 
tiic  real  fituation  of  man  in  this  world;  and  he  who  flatters  him- 
felf  with  an  oppofite  view  of  his  ftate,  only  lives  in  the  paradife 
of  fools. 

In  this  fituation,  no  quality  is  more  requifite  than  conftancy,  or 
fortitude  of  mind ;  a  quality  which  the  Pfalmift  appears,  from  the 
fentiment  in  the  text,  to  have  poffefled  in  an  eminent  degree.  For- 
titude was  juftly  clafled  by  the  ancient  philofophers,  among  the 
cardinal  virtues.  It  is  indeed  efTential  to  the  fupport  of  them  all ; 
and  is  moft  necefTary  to  be  acquired  by  every  one  who  wiflies  to 
difcharge  with  fidelity  the  duties  of  his  ftation.  It  is  the  armour 
of  the  mind,  which  will  fit  him  for  encountering  the  trials,  and 
furmounting  the  dangers  that  are  likely  to  occur  in  the  courfe  of 
his  life.  It  may  be  thought,  perhaps,  to  be  a  quality,  in  fome 
meafure,  conftitutional  ;  dependent  on  firmnefs  of  nerves,  and 
ftrength  of  fpirits.     Though;  partly^  it  is  fo,  yet  experience  fliows 


l()8  Ofi  Fortitude, 

that  it  may  alfo  be  acquired  by  principle,  and  be  fortified  by  rea- 
son ;  and  it  is  only  when  thus  acquired,  and  thus  fortified,  that  it 
can  be  accounted  to  carry  the  charader  of  virtue. — Fortitude  isop- 
pofed,  as  all  know,  to  timidity,  irrefolution,  a  feeble  and  wa\^r- 
jng  fpirit.  It  is  placed,  like  other  virtues,  in  the  middle  between 
two  extremes;  {landing  at  an  equal  dillancefrom  rafhnefson  the 
one  hand,  and  from  pufillanimity  on  the  other. — In  difcourfing 
on  this  fubj.cl:,  I  purpofe,  firfl,  to  fliow  the  importance  of  forti- 
tude or  conilancy;  next,  to  afcertain  the  grounds  on  which  it 
muft  reft;  and,  laftly,  to  fuggeft  fome  confiderations  for  aflifting 
the  exercife  of  it. 

I.  The  high  importance  of  fortitude  will  eafily  appear,  if  we 
confider  it  as  refpeding  either  the  happinefs  of  human  life,  or  the 
proper  difcharge  of  its  duties. 

"VV  ITHOUT  fome  degree  of  fortitude  there  can  be  no  happinefs ; 
becrjufe,  amidit  the  thoufand  uncertainties  of  life,  there  can  be  no 
enjoyment  of  tranquillity.  The  man  of  feeble  and  timorous  fpi- 
rit, lives  under  perpetual  alarms.  He  forefees  every  diftant  dan- 
ger, and  trembles.  He  explores  the  regions  of  poHibility,  to  dif- 
cover  the  dangers  that  may  arife.  Often  he  creates  imaginary  ones ; 
always  magnifies  thofe  that  are  real.  Hence,  like  a  perlon  haunt- 
ed by  fpedres,  he  lofes  the  free  enjoyment  even  of  a  fafe  and 
profperous  ftate.  On  the  firft  fliock  of  adverfity,  he  defponds. 
Inftead  of  exerting  himfelf  to  lay  hold  on  the  refources  that  re- 
main, he  gives  up  all  for  loft;  and  refigns  himfelf  to  abjed:  and 
broken  fpirits.  On  the  other  hand,  firmnefs  of  mind  is  the  parent 
of  tranquillity.  It  enables  one  to  enjoy  the  prefent  without  difturb- 
ance:  and  to  look  calmly  on  dangers  that  approach,  or  evils  that 
threaten  in  future.  It  fuggcfts  good  hopes.  It  fupplies  refources^ 
It  allows  a  man  to  retain  the  full  poflbnion  of  himfelf,  in  every  fi- 
1  nation  of  fortune.  Look  into  the  heart  of  this  man,  and  you 
will  find  compofure,  cheerfulnefs,  and  magnanimity.  Look  into 
the  heart  of  the  other,  and  you  will  fee  nothing  but  confufion, 
anxiety,  and  trepidation.  The  one  is  the  caftle  built  on  a  rock, 
which  defies  the  attacks  of  furrounding  waters.  The  other  is  a 
hut  placed  on  the  ihore,  which  every  v»^ind  iliakes,  and  every  wave 
overflows. 

If  fortitude  be  thus  eflential  to  the  enjoyment  of  life,  it  is  cqual- 
)>   io,  to  ihe  proper  difcharge  of  all  its  nioft  important  duties. 

He      ' 


On  Fortitude.  199 

He  who  is  of  a  cowardly  mind  is,  and  rauil  be,  a  Have  to  the  world. 
He  failiions  his  whole  conduct  according  to  its  hopes  and  fears.    He 
fmiles,  and  fawns,  and  betrays,  from  abjadl  cowfiderations  of  per- 
fonal  fafety.     He  is  incapable  of  either  conceiving,  or  executing, 
any  great  defign.     He  can  neither  (land  the  clamour  of  the  multi- 
tude, nor  the  frown  of  the  mighty.     The  wind  of  popular  favour, 
or  the  threats  of  power,  are  fufficient  to  fliake  his  moft  determin- 
ed purpofe.     The  world  always  knows  where  to  find  him.     He 
may  pretend  to  have  principles ;  but  on  every  trying  occafion,  it 
will  be  feen,  that  his  pretended  principles  bend  to  convenience 
and  fafety. — The  man  of  virtuous  fortitude,  again,  follows  the 
dilates  of  his  heart,  unembarrafled  by  thofe  reftraints  which  lie  up- 
on the  timorous.     Having  once  determined  what  is  fit  for  him  to 
do,  no  threatenings  can  Oiake,  nor  dangers  appal  him.     He  refls 
upon  himfelf,  fupported  by  a  confcioufnefs  of  inward  dignity.     I 
do  not  fay  that  this  difpofition  alone,  will  fecure  him  againft  every 
vice.     He  may  be  lifted  up  with  pride.     He  may  be  feduced  by 
pleafure.     He  may  be  hurried  away  by  paffion.     But  at  leaft  on 
one  quarter,  he  will  be  fafe  ;  by  no  abje^l  fears  milled  into  evil. 

Without  this  temper  of  mind,  no  man  can  be  a  thorough 
Chriftian,  For  his  profefTion,  as  fuch,  requires  him  to  be  fuperi- 
or  to  ihditfear  of  man  which  bringeth  afnare;  enjoins  him,  for  the 
fake  of  a  good  confcience,  to  encounter  every  danger;  and  to  be 
prepared,  if  called,  even  to  lay  down  his  life  in  the  caufe  of  reli- 
gion and  truth.  All  who  have  been  diftinguiihed  as  fervants  of 
God,  or  benefactors  of  men ;  all  who,  in  perilous  fituations,  have 
acted  this  part  with  fuch  honour  as  to  render  their  names  illuftri- 
ous  through  fucceeding  ages,  have  been  eminent  for  fortitude  of 
mind.  Of  this  we  have  one  confpicuous  example  in  the  Apoftle 
Paul,  whom  it  will  be  inftru6i:ive  for  us  to  view  in  a  remarkable 
occurrence  of  his  life.  After  having  long  aded  as  the  Apoflle  of 
the  Gentiles,  his  mifhon  called  him  to  go  to  Jerufalem,  where  he 
knew  that  he  was  to  encounter  the  utmofl  violence  of  his  enemies. 
Juft  before  he  fet  fail,  he  called  together  the  elders  of  his  favour- 
ite church  at  Ephefus,  and  in  a  pathetic  fpeech,  which  does  great 
honour  to  his  charader,  gave  them  his  lafl  farewel.  Deeply  af- 
feded  by  their  knowledge  of  the  certain  dangers  to  which  he  was 
expofing  himfelF,  all  the  afTembly  were  filled  with  diftrefs,  and 

nielceii 


200  On  FortUuds, 

melted  into  tears.  The  circumlhnces  were  fuch,  as  \t\vAm  have 
conveyed  dejedion  even  into  a  refolute  mind  ;  and  would  have 
totally  overwhelmed  the  feeble,  7hey  all  wept  fore,  and  fell  en 
Paulas  necky  andkijjtd  him  ;  forro^ving  moji  of  all  for  the  words  which 
he  fpakCy  that  they  fiould  fee  bis  face  no  more.  What  were  then 
the  fentiments,  what  was  the  language  of  this  great  and  good 
man?  Hear  the  words  which  fpuke  his  firm  and  undaunted  mind. 
Behold,  I  go  bound  in  thefpirit,  unto  Jerufalem,  not  knowing  the  things 
thatfiall  befal  me  there  ;  fave  that  the  Holy  Chojl  witneffeth  in  eve- 
7'y  cityjaying,  that  bonds  and  affadlions  abide  me.  But  none  of  thefe 
things  move  me  ;  neither  count  1  my  life  dear  unto  myfelf,  fo  that  I  might 
■pnif}')  my  courfe  with  joy,  and  the  miniftry  which  1  have  received  of 
the  LordJefuSy  to  tefiify  the  gofpel  of  the  grace  of  Cod,  "^  There 
was  uttered  the  voice,  there  breathed  the  fpirit,  of  a  brave,  and 
virtuous  man.  Such  a  man  knows  not  what  it  is  to  ihrink  from 
danger,  when  confcience  points  out  his  path.  In  that  path  he  is 
determined  to  walk;  let  the  confequences  be  what  they  wilK  Till 
1  die,  1  will  not  remove  my  integrity  from  me.  My  right eoufnefs  j 
holdfafl,  and  will  not  let  it  go,  Aly  heart  fJmll  not  reproach  mefi 
long  as  I  live.f  *^  For  me,  there  is  a  part  appointed  lo  acT;.  1  go 
*<  to  perform  it.  My  duty  I  lliall  do  to-day.  Let  to-morrow  take 
*'  thought  for  the  things  of  ///^//.''^— Having  thus  fhown  the  import- 
ance, I  proceed, 

II.  To  Ihow  the  proper  foundation  of  conftancy  and  fortitude  of 
mind.  They  are  principally  two;  a  good  confcience,  and  truft 
in  God. 

A  CORRUPTED  and  guilty  man,  can  poIFefs  no  true  firmnefs  of 
heart.  He  who  by  crooked  paths,  pur  funs  diflionourable  ends, 
has  many  things  to  difmay  him.  He  not  only  dreads  the  difappoint- 
ment  of  his  defigns,  by  fome  of  thofe  accidents  to  which  all  are 
expofed  ;  but  he  has  alfo  to  dread  the  treachery  of  his  confede- 
rates, the  difcovery  and  reproach  of  the  world,  and  the  juO:  dif- 
pleafure  of  Heaven.  His  fears  he  is  obliged  to  conceal ;  but 
while  he  aflumes  the  appearance  of  intrepidity  before  the  world, 
he  trembles  within  himfelf ;  and  the  bold  and  Heady  eye  of  inte- 
grity, frequently  darts  terror  into  his  heart.  There  is,  it  is  true, 
a  fort  of  conftitutional  courage,  which  fometimes  has  rendered 

men 

*  AeU,  XX,  22;  23,  24,  37;  3^'-         ■\  M  x^^'i^'  5;  ^- 


On  Fortitude,  20  r 

men  daring  in  the  moft  flagitious  attempts.  But  this  fool-hardi- 
nefs  of  the  raO),  this  boldnefs  of  the  ruffian,  is  altogether  different 
from  real  fortitude.  It  arifes  merely  from  warmth  of  blood, 
from  want  of  thought,  and  blindnefs  to  danger.  As  it  forms  no 
character  of  value,  fo  it  appears  only  in  occafional  fallies;  and  ne- 
ver can  be  uniformly  maiaiained.  It  requires  adventitious  props 
to  fupport  it;  and  in  fome  hour  of  trial,  always  fails.  There  can 
be  no  true  courage,  no  regular  perfevering  conftancy  but  what  is 
connected  with  principle,  and  founded  on  a  confcioufnefs  of  rec- 
titude of  intention.  This,  and  this  only,  ereds  that  brazen  wall 
which  we  can  oppofe  to  every  hoftile  attack.  It  cloaths  us  with 
an  armour,  on  which  fortune  will  fpend  its  (hafts  in  vain.  All  is 
found  within.  There  is  no  weak  place,  where  we  particularly 
dread  a  blow.  There  is  no  occafion  for  falfe  colours  to  be  hung 
out.  No  difguife  is  needed  to  cover  us.  V/e  would  be  fatisfied 
if  all  mankind  could  look  into  our  hearts.  What  has  he  to  fear, 
who  not  only  a(5ts  on  a  plan  which  his  confcience  approves,  but 
who  knows  that  every  good  man,  nay,  the  whole  unbiafled  world> 
if  they  could  trace  his  hitentions,  would  juftify  and  approve  his 
condud? 

He  knows,  at  the  fame  time,  that  he  is  acting  under  the  immediate 
eye  and  protection  of  the  Almighty.  Behold  my  witnefs  is  in  heaven  ; 
and  my  record  is  on  high,*  Here  opens  a  new  fource  of  fortitude 
to  every  virtuous  man.  The  confcioufnefs  of  fuch  an  illuftri- 
ous  fpectator,  invigorates  and  animates  him.  He  trufts,  that  the 
eternal  lover  of  righteoufnefs  not  only  beholds  and  approves,  but 
will  flrengthen  and  affifl: ;  will  notfuffer  him  to  be  unjuftly  opprefs- 
ed,  and  will  reward  his  conftancy  in  the  end,  with  glory,  honour, 
and  immortality.  A  good  confcience,  thus  fupported,  beftows  on 
the  heart  a  much  greater  degree  of  intrepidity,  than  it  could  other- 
wife  infpire.  One  who  refts  on  the  Almighty,  though  an  invifi- 
ble  Protedlor,  exerts  his  powers  with  double  force  ;  ads  with  vi- 
gour not  his  own.  Accordingly,  it  was  from  this  principle  of  trud 
in  God,  that  the  Pfalmift  derived  that  courage  and  boldnefs,  which 
he  expreffes  in  the  text.  He  had  faid  immediately  before.  The 
Lord  is  my  light  and  my  falvation  ;  the  Lord  is  thejirength  of  my  life. 
The  confequence  which  directly  follows  iS;  ofvjhomJJiall  I  he  afraid^ 

Though 
*  J  oh   xvi  19, 


5051  On  Fortitude. 

Though  an  hojl  pould  encamp  ogainji  me,  my  heart  Jhall  ml  fear\ 

It  re .11 .11  MS, 

III.  That  I  rug:geft  a  few  confiderations  which  may  prove  aux- 
iliary to  the  exercile  of  virtuous  fortitude,  in  the  midft  of  dangers. 

From  what  was  juft  now  faid,  it  appears,  firft,  that  it  is  of  high 
importance  to  evtry  one  who  wifhes  to  acl  his  part  with  becoming 
refolution,  to  cultivate  a  religious  principle,  and  to  be  infpired  with 
truft  in  God The  imperfe^ions  of  the  beftare  indeed  fo  nume- 
rous, as  to  give  them  no  title  to  claim,  on  their  own  account,  the 
protcdion  of  heaven.  But  we  are  taught  to  believe,  that  the 
merciful  God,  who  made  us,  and  \\i\o  knovjs  our  pame,  favours 
the  fincere  and  upright ;  that  the  lupreme  adiuiniiiration  of  the 
univerfe  is  always  on  the  fide  of  truth  and  virtue  ;  and,  that,  there- 
fore, every  worthy  character,  and  every  juft  and  good  caufe,  though 
for  a  while  it  ihould  be  deprefled,  it  is  likely  to  receive  countenance 
and  protedion  in  the  end.  The  more  firmly  this  belief  is  rooted 
in  the  heart,  its  influence  will  be  more  powerful,  in  furmounting 
the  fears  which  arife  from  a  fenfe  of  our  own  weaknefs  or  danger. 
The  records  of  all  nations  afford  a  ihoufand  remarkable  inftances 
of  the  effedl  of  this  principle,  both  on  individuals,  and  on  bodies 
of  men.  Animated  by  the  ftrong  belief  of  a  juft  caule,  and  a 
proteding  God,  the  feeble  have  waxed  Jlrong,  and  have  defpifed 
dangers,  fufferings,  and  death.  Handfuls  of  men  have  defied  hojis 
that  were  encamped aga'inj} them-,  and  have  gone  forth,  conquering 
and  to  conquer.  The /word  of  the  Lord  and  of  Gideon,  have  called 
forth  a  valour  which  aftonifhed  the  world-  and  which  could  have 
been  exerted  by  none  but  thofe  who  fought  under  a  divine  banner. 

In  the  next  place,  let  him  who  would  preferve  fortitude  in  diffi- 
cult fituations,  fill  his  mind  with  a  fenfe  of  what  conftitutes  the 
true  honour  of  man.  It  confifts  not  in  the  multitude  of  riches, 
or  the  elevation  of  rank;  for  experience  (hows,  that  thefe  may 
be  pofTcfled  by  the  worthlefs,  as  well  as  by  the  deierving.  It 
confifts,  in  being  deterred  by  no  danger  when  duty  calls  us  forth  ; 
in  fulfilling  cur  allotted  part,  whatever  it  may  be,  with  faiihfulnels, 
bravery,  and  conftancy  of  mind.  Thefe  qualities  never  fail  to 
ftamp  diftindion  on  the  charader.  They  confer  on  him  who  difco- 
rers  them,  an  honourable  fuperiority,  which  all,  even  enemies, 
feel  and  revere.— Let  every  man,  therefore,  wh^'n  the  hour  of 

danger 


C>i  Fortilude,  SG'S 

danger  comes,  bethink  himfelf,  that  now  is  arrived  the  hour  of 
trial  ;  the  hour  which  mufl:  determine  vvhetlier  he  is  to  rife,  or  lo 
fink  for  ever,  in  the  eftee.n  of  all  around  him.  If,  wlien  put  to 
the  teft,  he  dlfcovers  no  firmnefs  to  maintain  his  ground,  no  for- 
titude  to  (land  a  ihouk,  he  has  forfeited  every  prttenlion  to  a  man- 
ly mind.  He  mull  reckon  on  being  expofed  to  genera]  contempt; 
and  what  is  worfe,  he  will  feel  that  he  defervcs  it.  In  his  own 
eyes  he  will  be  contenjptible ;  than  which;  furely,  no  mifery  can 
be  more  fevere. 

But  in  order  to  acquire  habits  of  fortitude,  what  is  of  the  high- 
eft  confequence  is,  to  have  formed  a  juft  eftimate  of  the  goods 
and  evils  of  life,  and  of  the  value  of  life  itfelf.  For  here  lies  the 
chief  fource  of  our  weaknefs  and  pufiilanimity.  We  overvalue 
the  advantages  of  fortune;  rank  and  riches,  eafe  and  fafety.  De- 
luded by  vain  opinions,  we  look  to  thefe  as  our  uliimate  goods. 
We  hang  upon  them  with  fond  attachment;  and  to  forfeit  any 
hope  of  advancement,  to  incur  the  leaft  difcredic  with  the  world 
or  to  be  brought  down  but  one  ftep  from  the  fiation  we  pofTefs,  is  re» 
garded  with  confternation  and  difinay.  Hence,  a  ihoufand  weights 
hang  upon  the  mind,  which  deprefs  its  courage,  and  bend  it  to 
mean  and  diihonourable  compliances.  What  fortitude  can  he  pof- 
fefs,  what  worthy  or  generous  purpofe  can  he  form,  who  conceives 
diminution  of  rank,  or  lofs  of  fortune,  to  be  the  chief  evils  which 
man  can  fuffer  ?  Put  thefe  into  the  balance  with  true  honour,  with 
confcious  integrity,  with  the  eiieem  of  the  virtuous  and  the  wife, 
with  the  favour  of  Almighty  God,  with  peace  of  mind,  and  hope 
of  heaven  ;  and  then  think,  Vv'hether  tliofe  dreaded  evils  are  iuffi- 
cient  to  intimidate  you  from  doing  your  duty.  Look  beyond  ex^ 
ternal  appearances  to  the  infide  of  things.  Suffer  not  yourfclves 
to  be  impofed  on  by  that  glittering  varnifii,  with  which  the  fur- 
face  of  the  world  dazzles  the  vulgar.  Confider  how  many  are 
contented  and  happy  without  thofe  advantages  of  fortune,  on  which 
you  put  fo  extravagant  a  value.  Ccnlidcr  v  hctber  it  is  poflible  for 
you  to  be  happy  with  them,  if,  for  their  fake,  you  forfeit  all  that 
is  eftimable  in  man.  The  favour  of  the  great,  perhaps,  you  think, 
is  at  ftake ;  or  that  popularity  with  the  multitude,  on  which  you 
build  plans  of  advancement.  Alas!  hov/  precarious  are  the  jccans 
v.'hich  you  employ  in  order  to  attain  the  erid  you  iiave  in  viewj 

A  a  and 


204  ^«  Fortitude. 

and  the  end  itfelf,  how  little  is  it  worthy  of  your  ambition?  Thnt 
favour  which  you  purfue,  of  dubious  advantage  when  gained,  is 
frequently  loft  by  fervile  compliance.  The  timid  and  abjed  are 
detected,  and  defpifed  even  by  thofe  whom  they  court ;  while  the 
iirm  and  refolute  rife  in  the  end  to  thofe  honors,  which  the  otiier 
purfued  in  vain. 

Put  the  cafe  at  the  word,  Suppofe  not  your  fortune  only,  but 
your  fafety,  to  be  in  hazard;  your  life  itfelf  to  be  endangered, 
by  adhering  to  confcience  and  virtue.  Think  what  a  creeping  and 
ignominious  ftate  you  would  render  life,  if,  when  your  duty  calls, 
you  would  expofe  it  to  no  danger  ;  if  by  a  daftardly  behaviour,  you 
Avould,  at  any  expenfe  preferve  it.  That  life  which  you  are  fo 
•anxious  to  preferve,  can  at  any  rate  be  prolonged  only  for  a  few 
years  more  ;  and  thofe  years  may  be  full  of  woe.  He  who  will 
not  rilk  death  when  confcience  requires  him  to  face  it,  ought  to 
he  afliamed  to  live.  Confider,  as  a  man  and  a  Chriilian,  for  what 
purpofe  life  was  given  thee  by  Heaven,  Was  it,  that  thou 
jmio-rheft  pafs  a  few  years  in  low  pleafure,  and  ignoble  floth  ;  fly- 
5no-  into  every  corner  to  hide  thyfelf,  when  the  leaft  danger  rifes 
to  view  ?  No  :  Life  was  given,  that  thou  mightefc  conje  forth  to 
2(51  fome  ufeful  and  honourable  part,  on  that  theatre  where  thou 
Jiaft  been  placed  by  Providence;  mighteft  glorify  him  that  made 
thee;  and  by  fteady  perfeverance  in  virtue,  rife  in  the  end  to 
an  immortal  flate. 

Son  of  man!  Remember  thine  original  honours.  AlTert  the 
dignity  of  thy  nature.  Shake  off  this  puiillanimous  dread  of  death  j 
and  feek  to  fulfil  the  ends  for  which  thou  wert  fent  forth  by  thy 
Creator. — The  fentiment  of  a  noble  mind  is,  7  cour.t  not  my  life 
dear  unto  myfilf,  fo  that  1  may  finifh  my  courfe  ivithjoy.  To  the 
Jimfning  of  his  courfe,  let  every  one  direct  his  eye  ;  and  let  him 
now  appreciate  life  according  to  the  value  it  will  be  found  to  have, 
when  fummed  up  at  the  dole.  That  is  the  period  which  brings 
every  thing  to  the  teft.  Illufions  may  formerly  have  impofed 
on  the  world  :  may  have  inipofed  on  the  man  himftlf.  But  all 
illufion  then  vanilhes.  The  real  character  comes  forth.  Tiie 
eflimate  of  happinefs  is  fairly  formed.  Hence  it  has  been  Juflly  faici, 
that  no  man  can  be  pronounced  either  great  or  happy,  until  liis 

laft  hour  come.     To  that  kft  hour,  what  will  bring  fuch  faiitfac- 

tion, 


On  Fortitude.  205 

tion,  or  add  ^o  much  dignity,  as  the  reflection,  on  having  fur- 
mounted  with  firmnefs  all  the  difcouragements  of  the  world,  and 
having  perfevered  to  the  end  in  one  uniform  courfe  of  fidelity  and 
honour?  We  remarked  before,  the  magnanimous  behaviour  of 
the  Apoftle  Paul,  when  he  had  perfecution  and  diftrefs  in  full 
view.  Hear  now  the  fentiments  of  the  fame  great  man,  when 
the  time  of  his  laft  fuffering  approached  ;  and  remark  the  majefty, 
and  eafe  with  which  he  looked  on  death.  /  mn  mix)  ready  to  be 
offered  J  and  the  time  of  departure  is  at  hand.  1  have  fought  the  good 
fight.  I  have  fimjlied  my  courfe.  I  have  kepi  the  faiths  Henceforth 
there  is  bid  up  for  vie  a  crown  of  rigkteoufnefs .^  How  many  years 
of  life  does  fucli  a  dying  moment  overbalance?  Who  would  not 
chufe,  in  this  manner,  to  go  on  the  ftage,  with  fuch  a  fong  of 
triumph  in  his  mouth,  rather  than  prolong  his  exiftence  through  a 
wretched  old  age,  ftained  with  fin  and  iliame  > 

Animated  by  thofe  confiderations,  let  us  nourifh  that  fortitude 
cff  mind,  which  is  fo  eflemial  to  a  man,  and  a  Chriftian.  Let  no 
difcouragement,  nor  danger,  deter  us  from  doing  what  is  right. 
Through  honour  and  dijhonour,  through  good  report  and  had  report ,. 
let  us  preferve  fidelity  to  our  God  and  our  Saviour.  Though  an 
hoft  encamp  again/}  us,  let  us  not  fear  to  difcharge  our  duty,  God 
affiles  us  in  the  virtuous  eoiiflid ;  and  will  crown  the  conqueror 
with  eternal  rewards.  Be  thou  faithful  unto  death,  and  I  will' give 
ihee  a  crown  of  life.  To  him  that  Qvercometh,  faith  our  bleffed  Lord, 
/  will  grant  to  fit  with  me  on  my  throne  ;  even  as  I  alfo  overcatne, 
^nd  am  fet  down  with  my  Father  on  his  throne,  f 

SER- 

*  2  Tim.  iv.  6;  7.         t  Rev.  ii,  10.— iii.  21, 


C  206  5 

SERMON     XXXVIIL 
On  Envy. 

i'j;  'j!t  -^  »-^  U'^ 

I  Corinthians,  xiii.  4, 
Chanty  envieth  «<?/.——— 

ENVY  is  a  fenfation  cf  uneafincrs  and  difquiet,  srifing  from 
the  adv'antages  which  others  are  fupj  ofed  to  pc  iTeis  above  us, 
accompanied  with  malignity  towards  thofe  who  pofleis  them.  "J  Ids 
is  nniverfilly  admitted  to  be  one  of  theblickeit  paHions  in  the  hu- 
man heart.  In  this  world,  we  depend  much  on  one  ai.ott-er. 
and  were  therefore  formed  by  God  to  be  mutually  ufeful  and  aflift- 
ing.  The  inftind  of  kindnefs  and  compaflion  which  belong  to  our 
frame,  Hiow  how  much  it  was  the  intention  of  our  Creator,  that 
we  Hjould  be  united  in  the  frienddiip.  If  any  infringe  this  great 
law  of  nature,  by  acls  of  cauielcfs  hoitility,  rcfentment  may 
juitly  arife.  No  one  is  to  be  condemned  for  defending  his  rights^ 
and  fiiowing  dilpleafure  againlt  a  malicious  enemy.  Eut  to  con- 
ceive ill-wili  atone  who  has  attacked  liOne  of  our  rights,  nor  cone 
us  any  injury,  folely  becaufe  he  is  uiore  proi'perous  than  we  are> 
is  a  difpofition  altogether  unnaiural;  it  luits  not  the  human  con- 
Ititution,  and  partakes  more  of  the  rancour  of  an  evil  (pirit. 
Fence,  the  character  of  an  envious  man  is  univerfally  odious.  All 
dilclaim  it;  and  they  who  feel  themfelves  under  the  influence  of 
this  paflion,  carefully  conceal  it. 

But  it  is  proper  to  confider,  that  among  all  our  pafTions,  both 
good  and  bad,  there  are  many  different  gradations.  Sometimes  they 
fwim  on  the  furface  of  the  mind,  without  producing  any  internal 
agitation.  They  proceed  no  farther  than  the  beginnings  of  paf- 
fion.  Allayed  by  our  conftitution,  or  tempered  by  the  mixture  of 
ether  difpolitions,   they  exert  no  confiderable  influence  on  the 

temper 


Oh  Envy,  207 

temper.  Though  the  character  in  which  envy  forms  the  ruling 
paiTion,  and  reigns  i.i  all  its  force,  be  one  too  odious,  I  hope,  to 
be  common  ;  yet  lome  fhade,  fome  tindure,  of  this  evil  difpofition, 
mixes  with  molt  charadlers  in  the  world.  It  is,  perhaps,  one  of 
the'moft  prevailing  infirmities  to  which  we  are  fubjcd:.  There 
are  few  but  who,  at  one  time  or  other,  have  found  fomewhat  of 
nature  flirring  within  them;  fome  lurking  uneafinefs  in  their 
mind,  when  ihey  looked  up  to  others,  who  enjoyed  a  greater 
fhare  than  had  fallen  to  their  lor,  of  fome  advantages  which  they 
wirtied,  and  thought  themfelves  entitled  to  pofFefs.  Though  this 
fhould  not  embitter  their  difpofition  ;  though  it  lliould  create  the 
uneafinefs  only,  without  the  malignity  of  envy ;  yet  ftill  it  is  a 
diilurbed  ftate  of  mind  ;  and  always  borders  upon,  if  it  adually 
include  not,  fome  vicious  affections.  In  order,  as  far  as  poffible, 
to  remedy  this  evil,  1  fliall  now  confider  what  arc  the  moil  gene- 
ral grounds  of  the  envy  which  men  are  apt  to  bear  to  others; 
and  lliall  examine  what  foundation  they  afford,  for  any  degree 
of  this  troublefome  and  dangerous  paffion. — The  chief  grounds  of 
envy  may  be  reduced  to  three  :  Accomplifhments  of  mind  ;  ad- 
vantages of  birth^  rank,  and  fortune;  fuperior  fuccefs  in  worldly 
purfuits. 

I.  Accomplishments,  or  endov^ments  of  the  mind.  The 
chief  endowment  for  which  man  deferves  to  be  valued,  is  virtue. 
This  unqueftionably,  forms  the  moft  eftimable  diftlndion  among 
mankind.  Yet  this  v;hich  may  appear  furprifing,  never  forms  any 
ground  of  envy.  No  man  is  envied  for  being  more  juft,  more 
generous,  more  patient,  or  forgiving,  than  others.  This  may,  in 
part,  be  owing  to  virtue  producing  in  every  one  who  beholds  it, 
that  high  degree  of  rcfpedt  and  love,  which  extinguilhes  envy. 
But  probably,  it  is  more  owing  to  the  good  opinion  which  every 
one  entertains  of  his  own  moral  qualities.  Some  virtues,  or,  a^ 
leaft,  the  feeds  of  them,  he  finds  within  his  breaft.  Others,  he 
vainly  attributes  to  himfelf.  Thofe  in  which  he  is  plainly  defici- 
ent, he  undervalues ;  as  either  not  real  virtues,  or  virtues  of  very 
inferior  rank  ;  and  refts  fatisfied,  that,  on  the  whole,  he  is  as  wor- 
thy and  refpeclable  as  his  neighbour. 

The  cafe  is  different,  with  regard  to  thofe  mental  abilities  and 
powers  which  are  afcribed  to  others.  As  long  as  thefe  are  exert- 
ed 


^o^  On  Erwy, 

ed  in  a  fpliere  of  afllon  remote  fro;n  ours,  and  not  brought  into 
competiuicn  with  talents  of  the  fame  kind,  to  which  v^e  have  pre- 
tentions, they  create  no  jealoufy.     I'hey   are  viewed   as  diftant 
objeds,  in  which  we  have  not  any  concern.     It  is  not  until  they 
touch  bur  own  line,  and  appear  to  rival  us  in  what  v;e  wifh  to 
excel,  that  they  awaken  envy.      Even  then,  envy  is,    properly 
fpeaking,  not  grounded  on  the  talents  of  others.     For  here,   too, 
^ur  felf-coiiiplacency  brings  us  relief;    from  the  perfuafion,  that 
were  we  thoroughly  known,  and  full  jullice  done  to  us,  our  abi- 
lities would  be  found  not  inferior  to  thofe  of  our  rivals.       What 
properly  occafions  envy,  is  the  fruit  of  the  accomplifliments  of  o- 
thers;   the  pre-eminence  which  the  opinion  of  the  world  beftovvs, 
or  which  we  dread  it  will  beftow,   on  their  talents  above  ours. 
Hence,  diftinguiihed  fuperiority  in  genius,  learning,    eloquence, 
or  any  other  of  thofe  various  arts  that  attract  the  notice  of  the 
world,  often  become  painful  grounds  of  envy  ;    not  indeed  to  all 
indifferently,  but  to  thofe  who  follow  the  fame  line  of  purfuit. 
Mere  rivality,  infpired  by  emulation,  would  carry  no   reproach  ; 
were  not  that  rivaiity  joined  with  obliquity,  and  a  malignant  fpi- 
rit ;  did  it  not  lead  to  fecret  detradion,  and  unfair  methods  of 
diminiOiing  th^  reputation  of  others.     Too  frequently  has  fuch  a 
fpirit  tarniihed  the  character  of  thofe  who  iought  to  fhine  in  the 
elegant  arts  ;  and  Vv'ho,  otherwife,  had  a  juft  title  to  fame. — Let 
fuch  as  are  addicted  to  this  infirmity,  confider    how  much  they 
deo-rade  themfelves.     Superior  merit,  of  any  kind,  always  refts  on 
jtfelf.     Confcious  of  what  it  deferves,  it  difdains  low  competitions 
and  jealoulics.     They  who  are  flung  with  envy,  efpecially   when 
they  allow  its  malignity  to  appear,  confefs  a  kn^e  of  their  ov.n 
inferiority  ;  and,  in  effed,  pay  homage  to  that  merit  from  which 
they  endeavour  to  detrad. 

But  in  order  to  eradicate  the  pafilon,  and  to  cure  the  difquiet 
which  it  creates,  let  fuch  perfons  farther  confider,  how  inconfider- 
able  the  advantage  is  which  their  rivals  have  gained,  by  any  fupe- 
rioritv  over  them.  They  whom  you  envy,  are  themfelves  infe- 
rior to  others  who  follow  the  fame  purfults.  For  how  few,  how 
very  few  have  reached  the  fummit  of  excellence,  in  the  art  or  fiu 
dy  which  they  cultivate  ?  Even  that  degree  of  excellence    which 

tbey  have  attained,  how  feldom  is  it  allowed  to  them  by  the  world, 

till 


On  Envy.  2^^ 

till  after  they  die?  Public  applaufe  is  the  moft  fluctuating,  and 
uncertain  of  all  rewards.  Admired,  as  they  may  be,  by  a  circle 
of  their  friends,  they  have  to  look  up  to  others,  who  ftand  above 
them  in  public  opinion  ;  and  undergo  the  fame  mortifications  which 
you  fuifer  in  looking  up  to  them.  Confider  what  labour  it  has 
coft  them  to  arrive  at  that  degree  of  eminence  tlify  have  gained  ; 
and  after  all  their  labour,  how  imperfed  their  recompence  is  at 
laft.  Within  what  narrow  bounds  is  their  fame  confined?  With 
what  a  number  of  humiliations  is  it  mixed  ?  To  how  many  are 
they  abfolutely  unknown  ?  Among  thofe  who  know  them,  how 
many  cenfure  and  decry  them? — Attending  fairly  to  thefe  confi- 
derations,  the  envious  might  come  in  the  end  to  difcern,  that 
the  fame  acquired  by  any  accompli Ihment  of  the  mind,  by  all  that 
fliill  can  contrive,  or  genius  can  execute,  amounts  to  no  more  than 
a  fmall  elevation ;  raifes  the  poiTeffor  to  fuch  an  inconliderable 
height  above  the  crowd,  that  others  may,  without  difquiet  fit 
down  contented  with  their  own  mediocrity, 

II.  Advantages  of  fortune,  fuperiority  in  birth,  rank  and 
riches,  even  qualifications  of  body  and  form,  become  p^rounds  of 
envy.  Among  external  advantages,  ihofe  which  relate  to  the  bo- 
dy ought  certainly,  in  the  comparative  eftimation  of  ourfelves  and 
others,  to  hold  the  loweft  place ;  as  in  the  acquifition  of  them  we 
can  claim  no  merit,  but  muft  afcribe  them  entirely  to  the  gift  of 
nature.  Yet  envy  has  often  fliowed  itlelf  here  in  full  malignity  ; 
though  a  fmall  meafure  of  reflexion  might  have  difcovered  that 
there  was  little  or  no  ground  for  this  palTion  to  arife.  It  would 
have  proved  a  blelfing  to  multitudes,  to  have  wanted  thole  advan- 
tages for  which  they  are  envied.  How  frequently,  for  inilance, 
has  Beauty  betrayed  the  pcirtflbrs  of  it  into  many  a  fnare,  and 
brought  upon  them  many  a  dilailer  >  Beheld  v>'ith  fpireful  eyes  by 
thofe  who  are  their  rivals,  they,  in  the  mean  time,  glow  with  no 
lefs  envy  againlt  others  by  whom  they  are  furpi-ilTed ;  while,  in 
the  midif  of  their  competitions,  jealouiies,  and  concealed  enmities, 
the  fading  flower  is  eafily  blalted  ;  fiiort  lived  at  the  beif;  and 
trifling,  at  any  rate,  in  comparifon  with  the  higher,  and  more 
lafting  beauties  of  the  mind. 

But  of  all  the  grounds  of  envy  among  men,  fuperiority  in  rank 
and  for  tune  is  the  jfloll  general,     Hsnce,  the  malignity  which  the 

poor 


210  On  Envy, 

poor  commonly  bear  to  the  rich,  as  ingrofilng  to  themfelves  sll  the 
comforts  of  life.  Hence,  the  evil  eye  with  which  perfons  of  infe- 
rior ftation  fcrutinife  thofe  who  are  above  them  in  rank;  and  if 
they  approach  to  that  rank,  their  envy  is  generally  {tronged  a- 
gainftfuch  asarejuft  one  flep  higher  than  themfelves. — Alas!  my 
friends,  all  this  envious  difquietude,  which  agitates  the  world,  arifes 
from  a  deceitful  figure  which  impofes  on  the  public  view,  Falfe 
colours  are  hung  out :  the  real  ftate  of  men  is  not  what  it  leems 
to  be.  The  order  of  fociety  requires  a  diflinftion  of  ranks  to  take 
place  ;  but  in  point  of  happinefs,  all  men  come  much  nearer  to 
equality  than  is  commonly  imagined  ;  and  the  circun){iances  which 
form  any  material  difference  of  happinefs  among  them,  are  not 
of  that  nature  which  render  them  grounds  of  envy.  The  poor 
man  polTenTes  not,  it  is  true,  feme  of  the  conveniences  and  plea- 
fures  of  the  rich  ;  but,  in  return,  he  is  free  of  many  embarr?.ir- 
ments  to  which  they  are  fubjeft.  By  the  fimplicity  and  unifor- 
nnty  of  his  life,  he  is  delivered  from  that  variety  of  cares,  which 
perplex  thofe  who  have  great  affairs  to  manage,  intricate  plans 
to  purfue,  many  enemies,  perhaps,  to  encounter  in  the  purfuiu 
In  the  tranquillity  of  his  fmall  habitation,  and  private  family,  he 
enjoys  a  peace  which  is  often  unknown  at  courts.  The  gratifica- 
tions of  nature,  which  are  always  the  mod  fatisfactory,  are  pollef- 
fed  by  him  to  their  full  extent;  and  if  he  be  a  llranger  to  the 
refined  pleafures  of  the  wealthy,  he  is  unacquainted  alfo  v.  ith  the 
defire  of  them,  and  by  confequence,  feels  no  want.  His  plain  meal 
fatisfies  his  appetite,  with  a  relilh,  probably,  higher  than  that  of 
the  rich  man,  who  fits  down  to  his  luxurious  banquet.  His  deep 
is  more  found;  his  health  more  firm  ;  he  knows  not  what  fpleen, 
langor  of  lidlefTnefs  are.  His  accudomed  employments  or  labours 
are  not  more  opprcilive  to  liim,  than  the  labour  of  attendance 
on  courts  and  the  great,  the  labours  of  drcfs,  the  fatigue  of  a. 
niufements,  the  very  weight  of  idlenefs,  frequently  are  to  the 
rich.  In  the  n^ean  time,  all  the  beauty  of  the  face  of  nature, 
all  the  enjoyments  of  domeitic  fociety,  all  the  gaiety  and  cheer- 
fulnefs  of  an  eafy  mind,  are  as  open  to  him  as  w  thofe  of  the  high- 
eft  rank.  The  fplendor  of  retinue,  the  found  of  titles,  the  ap- 
pearances of  high  refpe^L,  arc  indeed  footliing,  for  a  lliort 
lime;  to  the  great.  i3ut  Ipecome  familiar^  they  are  foon  forgotten, 

Cudom 


On  Envy^  2it 

Cuftom  effaces  their  impreflion.  They  fink  into  the  rank  of  thofe 
ordinary  things,  which  daily  recur,  without  raifing  any  fenfation 

of  joy. Ceafe,  therefore,  from  looking  up  with  difcontent  and 

envy  to  thofe  who.u  birth  or  fortune  have  placed  above  you.  Ad- 
juft  the  balance  of  happinefs  fairly.  When  you  think  of  the  en- 
joyments  you  want,  think  alfo  of  the  troubles  from  which  you  are 
free.  Allow  their  juft  value  to  the  comforts  you  poflefs ;  and 
you  will  find  reafon  to  reft  latisfied,  with  a  very  moderate,  thougli 
not  an  opulent  and  fplendid  condition  of  fortune.  Often,  did 
you  know  the  whole,  you  would  be  inclined  to  pity  the  ftate  of 
thofe  whom  you  now  envy, 

III;  Superior  fuccefs  in  the  courfe  of  worldly  purfuits,  is  a 
frequent  ground  of  envy.  Among  all  ranks  of  men,  competitions 
arife.  Wherever  any  favourite  objeft  is  purfued  in  common,  jea* 
loufies  feldom  fail  to  take  place  among  thofe  who  are  equally  dc- 
firous  of  attaining  it ;  as  in  that  ancient  inftance  recorded  of  Jo- 
feph's  brethren,  who  hated  iheir  brother,  becaufe  their  father  loved 
him  more  than  all  the  reji*  "  I  could  eafily  bear,''  fays  one, 
"  that  fome  others  fhould  be  more  reputable  or  famous,  fhould  be 
*^  richer  or  greater,  than  I.  It  is  but  juft,  that  this  man  fliould  en- 
**  joy  the  diftindlion  to  which  his  fplendid  abilities  have  railed  him, 
*«  It  is  natural  for  that  man,  to  command  the  refped:  to  which  he 
"  is  entitled  by  his  birth  or  his  fank.  But  when  I,  and  another, 
"  have  ftarted  in  the  race  of  lite,  upon  equal  terms  and  in  the 
'«  fame  rank  ;  that  he,  without  any  pretenfion  to  uncommon  merit, 
<«  fhould  have  fuddenly  fo  far  outftripped  me ;  flionld  have  en- 
^'  grolTed  all  that  public  favour  to  which  I  am  no  lefs  entitled 
<<  than  he;  this  is  what  I  cannot  bear  ;  my  blood  boils,  my  fpiric 
"  fwells  with  indignation,  at  this  undeferved  treatment  I  have 
*<  fuffered  from  the  world.''  Complaints  of  this  nature  are  often 
made,  by  them  who  feek  to  juftify  the  envy  which  they  bear  to 
their  more  profperous  neighbours.  But  if  fuch  perfons  wiih  not 
to  be  thought  unjuft,  let  me  defire  them  to  inquire  v.'hether  tfiey 
have  been  altogether  fair  in  the  comparifon  they  have  made  of 
their  own  meiit  with  that  of  their  rivals;  and  whether  they 
have  not  themfelves  to  blame,  more  than  the  world,  for  being 
left  behind  in  the  career  of  fortune.     Th«  world  is  not  always 

B  b  blind 

*  Cen^  XXX vii.  4.  > 


212  On  Envy. 

blind  or  unjuft,  in  conferring  its  favours.  Inflances  indeed,  fome. 
times,  occur,  of  deferving  perfons  prevented,  by  a  fucceflion  of 
crofs  incidents,  from  rifmg  into  public  acceptance.  But,  in  the 
ordinary  courfe  of  things,  merit,  fboner  or  later,  receives  a  re- 
ward ;  while  the  greater  part  of  men^-  misfortunes  and  difappcint- 
ments  can,  generally,  be  traced  to  fome  mifcondud  of  their  own. 
Wifdom  hringetb  to.  honour:  The  hand  of  the  diligent  maketh  rich; 
and,  it  has  been  faid,  not  altogether  without  reafon,  that,  of  his 
own  fortune  in  life,  every  man  is  the  chief  artificer.  If  Jofeph 
was  preferred  by  the  father  to  all  his  brethren,  his  fubfequent 
conduct  fhowed  how  well  he  merited  the  preference. 

Supposing,  however,  the  world  to  have  been  unjuft,  in  an 
uncommon  degree,  with  regard  to  you,  this  will  not  vindicate  ma- 
lignity and  envy  towards  a  more  profperous  competitor.  Ycu 
may  accufe  the  world;  but  what  reafon  have  you  to  bear  ill-will 
to  him,  who  has  only  improved  the  favour  which  the  world  fliow- 
cd  him  ?  If,  by  means  that  are  unfair,  he  has  rifen  ;  and,  to  ad- 
vance himfelf,  has  acled  injurioufly  by  you,  refentment  is  jufli- 
fiable ;  but  if  you  cannot  accufe  him  of  any  fuch  improper  con- 
dud:,  his  luccefs  alone  gives  no  faijclion  to  jour  envy.  You, 
perhaps,  preferred  the  enjoyment  of  your  eafe,  to  the  ftir  of  a 
buly,  or  to  the  cares  of  a  thoughtful  life.  Retired  from  the  world, 
and  following  your  favourite  inclinations,  you  were  not  aUvays 
attentive  to  feize  the  opportunities  which  offered,  for  doing  juftice 
to  your  charader,  and  improving  your  fituation.  Ought  you 
then  to  complain,  if  the  more  aclive  and  laborious  have  acquired 
what  you  were  negligent  to  gain?  Confider,  that  if  you  have  ob- 
tained lefs  preferment,  you  have  poflefled  more  indulgence  and 
€afe.  Confider,  moreover,  that  the  rival  to  whom  you  look  up 
with  repining  eyes,  though  more  fortunate  in  the  world,  may 

perhaps,  on   the  whole,  not  be  more   happy  than  you. He 

lias  all  the  viciiliiudes  of  the  world  before  him.  He  may  have 
much  to  encounter,  much  to  fuffer,  from  which  you  are  proieded 
by  the  greater  obfcurity  of  your  flation.  Every  fituation  in  life, 
has  both  a  bright  and  a  dark  fide.  Let  not  your  attention  duell 
only  on  what  is  bright  on  the  fide  of  thofe  ycu  envy,  and  dark 
on  your  own.  But  bringing  into  view  both  fides  of  your  refpec- 
tive  conditions^  eltimate  fairly  the  fum  of  felicity. 

Thus 


On  Envy,  213 

Thus  I  have  fuggefted  feveral  confiderations,  for  evincing  the 
unreatbnablenefsof  chatdifquietude  which  envy  raifes  in  our  brealb; 
confiderations  which  tend  at  leaft  to  mitigate  and  allay  the  work- 
ino-s  of  this  malignant  pafTion,  and  which,  in  a  fober  mind,  ought 
totally  to  extinguiih  it.     The  fcope  of  the  whole  has  been,   to 
promote,  in  every  one,  contentment  with  his  own  ftate.     Mar.y 
arguments  of  a  different  nature  may  be  employed  againft  envy ; 
fome  taken  from  its  fmful  and  criminal  nature ;  fome,  from  the 
mifchiefs  to  which  it  gives  rife  in  the  world  ;  others,  from  the 
raifery  which  it  produces  to  him  who  nourifhes  this  viper  in  his 
bofom.     But,  undoubtedly,  the  moft  efficacious  arguments,  are 
fuch  as  fliow,  that  the  circumftances  of  others,  compared  with  our 
own,  afford  no  ground  for  envy.     The  miftaken  ideas  which  are 
entertained,  of  the  high  importance  of  certain  worldly  advantages 
and  diftinaions,  form  the  principal   caufe  of  our  repining  at  our 
own  lot,  and  envying  that  of  others.     To  things  light  in  them- 
felves,  our  imagination  has  added  undue  weight.     Did  we  allow 
reflexion  and  wifdom  to  correft  the  prejudices  which  wehive  im- 
bibed, and  to  difperfe  thofe  phantoms  of  our  own  creating,  the 
aloom  which  overcafts  us  would  gradually  vanifh.    Together  with 
returning  contentment,  the  fliy  would  cigar  up,  and  every  objedt 
brighten  around  us.     It  is  in  the  fullen  and  dark  fhade  of  difcon- 
tent,  that  noxious  pafTions,  like  venemous  animals,  breed,  and 
prey  upon  the  heart. 

Envy  is  a  pafTion  of  fo  odious  a  nature,  that  not  only  it  is  con- 
cealed as  much  as  pofTible  from  the  world,  but  every  man  is  glad 
to  diffemble  the  appearance  of  it  to  his  own  heart.  Hence,  it  is 
apt  to  grow  upon  him  unperceived.  Let  him  who  is  defirous  to 
keep  his  heart  chafte  and  pure  from  its  influence,  examine  himfelf 
ftriclly  on  thofe  difpofitions  which  he  bears  towards  his  profperous 
neighbours.  Does  he  ever  view,  with  fecret  uneafinefs,  the 
merit  of  others  rifing  into  notice  and  diftindion  ?  Does  he  hear 
their  praifes  with  unwilling  ear  ?  Does  he  feel  an  inclination  to 
deprecate,  what  he  dares  not  openly  blame  ?  When  obliged  to 
commend,  does  his  cold  and  aukward  approbation  infmuate  his 
belief  of  fome  unknown  defers  in  the  applauded  charader  ?  From 
fuch  fymptoms  as  thefe,  he  may  infer  that  the  difeafe  of  envy  is 
forming ;  that  the  poifon  is  beginning  to  fpread  its  infedion  over 
his  heart,  Tks 


'214  On  EfWyl 

The  caufes  that  nourifh  envy  are  principally  two ;  ancj'two 
which,  very  frequently,  operate  in  conjundion  ;  thefe  are,  pride 
and  indolence.  The  connexion  of  pride  with  envy,  is  obvious  and 
direct.  The  high  value  which  the  proud  fet  on  their  own  merit, 
the  unreafonable  claims  which  they  form  on  the  world,  and  the 
injuftice  which  they  fuppofe  to  be  done  to  them  by  any  preference 
given  to  others,  are  perpetual  fources,  firft  of  difcontent,  and  next 
of  envy.  When  indolence  is  joined  to  pride,  the  difeafe  of  the 
mind  becomes  more  inveterate  and  incurable.  Pride  leads  men 
to  claim  more  than  they  deferve.  Indolence  prevents  them  from 
obtaining  what  they  might  juftly  claim.  Difappointments  follow; 
and  fpleen,  malignity,  and  envy,  rage  within  them.  The  proud 
and  indolent,  are  aUvays  envious.  Wrapt  up  in  their  own  im- 
portance, they  fit  ftill,  and  repine,  becaufe  others  are  more  prof- 
perous  than  they  ;  while,  with  all  their  high  opinion  of  themfelves, 
they  have  done  nothing  either  to  deferve,  or  to  acquire,  profperi- 
ty.  As,  therefore,  we  value  our  virtue,  or  our  peace,  let  us 
guard  •gainfi:  thefe  two  evil  difpofitions  of  mind.  Let  us  be  mo- 
defl  in  our  own  efteem,  and,  by  diligence  and  induftry,  ftudy  to  ac- 
quire the  efteem  of  others.  So  fliall  we  fhut  up  the  avenues  that 
^ead  to  many  a  bad  paffion ;  and  fliall  learn,  in  -whatfotverftaie  ive 
are,  therewith  to  be  content. 

Finally,  in  order  to  fubdue  envy,  let  us  bring  often  into 
view  thofe  religious  confiderations  which  regard  us  particularly 
as  Chriftians.  Let  us  remember  how  unworthy  we  all  are  in 
the  fight  of  God  ;  and  how  mush  the  blefhngs  which  each  of  us 
enjoy,  are  beyond  what  we  deferve.  Let  us  nourifh  reverence 
and  fubmifllon  to  that  Divine  government,  which  has  appointed 
to  every  one  fuch  a  condition  in  the  world  as  is  fittefl  for  him  to 
pofTefs.  Let  us  recoiled  how  oppofite  the  Chriftian  fpirit  is  to 
envy  ;  and  what  facred  obligations  it  lays  upon  us,  to  walk  in  love 
and  charity  towards  one  another.  Indeed,  when  we  reflect  on 
the  many  miferies  which  abound  in  human  life  ;  on  the  fcanty 
proportion  of  happinefs  which  any  man  is  here  allowed  to  enjoy ; 
on  the  fmall  difference  which  the  diverfity  of  fortune  makes  on  that 
fcaniy  proportion  ;  it  is  furprifing,  that  envy  fliould  ever  have 
been  a  prev^alent  paffion  among  men,  much  more  that  it  fliould 
have  prevailed  among  Chriflians.    Where  fo  much  is  fuffered  in 

common 


On  Fortitude,  215 

common,  little  room  is  left  for  envy.  There  is  more  occafion  for 
pity  and  fympathy,  and  inclination  to  afTift  each  other.  To  our 
own  good  endeavours  for  redifying  our  difpofitions,  let  us  not 
forget  to  add  ferious  prayers  to  the  Author  of  our  being,  that  he 
who  made  the  heart  of-  man,  and  knows  all  its  infirmities,  would 
thoroughly  purify  our  hearts  from  a  palTion  fo  bafe,  and  fo  crimi- 
nal, as  envy.  Create  in  me,  0  God,  a  clean  heart ;  and  renew  a 
right  fpirit  within  me.  Search  me,  and  knoiv  my  heart.  Try  me, 
and  know  my  thoughts.  See  if  there  be  any  wicked  way  in  me,  and 
lead  me  in  the  way  everla/iing.* 

*  Pfalm,  li.  10  ;  cxxxix.  23,  24. 

SERMON 


SERMON      XXXJX. 

On    Idleness. 

n -&^"^ -cE'-n -^-"^ 

Matthew  xx.  6. 
Why  ft  and  ye  here  all  the  day  Idle? 

IT  is  an  obfervation  which  naturally  occurs,  and  has  been  often 
made,  that  all  the  reprefentations  of  the  Chriftian  life  in  fcripture 
are  taken  from  aclive  fcenes;  from  carrying  on  a  warfare,  running 
a  race,  driving  to  enter  in  at  a  ftrait  gate,' and,  as  in  this  context, 
labouring  in  a  vineyard.  Hence  the  conclufion  plainly  follows, 
that  various  aflive  duties  are  required  of  the  Chridian  ;  and  that 
floth  and  indolence  are  inconfiftent  with  his  hope  of  heaven. 

But  it  has  been  fometimes  fuppofed,  that  induftry,  as  far  as  it 
is  matter  of  duty,  regards  our  fpiricual  concerns  and  employments 
only;  and  that  one  might  be  very  bufy  as  a  Chriftian,  who  was 
very  idle  as  a  man.  Hence,  among  fome  denominations  of  Chrif- 
tians,  an  opinon  has  prevailed,  that  the  perfection  of  religion  was 
to  be  found  in  thofe  monaftic  retreats,  where  every  aclive  funflion 
of  civil  life  was  totally  excluded,  and  the  whole  time  of  men  filled 
up  with  exercifes  of  devotion.  They  who  hold  fuch  opinions  pro- 
ceed on  the  fuppofition  that  religion  has  little  or  no  concern  with 
the  ordinary  affairs  of  the  world  ;  that  its  duties  ftand  apart  by 
themfelves ;  and  mingle  not  in  the  intercourfe  which  men  have 
with  one  another.  The  perfect  Chriftian  was  imagined  to  live  a 
fort  of  angelic  life,  fequeftered  from  the  bufinefs  or  pleafures  of 
this  contemptible  (late.  The  gofpej,  on  the  contrary,  reprefents 
the  religion  of  Chrift  as  intended  for  the  benefit  of  human  fociety. 
It  aflumes  men  as  engaged  in  the  bufmefs  of  active  life  ;  and  di- 
rects its  exhortations,  accordingly,  to  all  ranks  and  ftations  ;  to 
the  magiitrate  and  the  fubjed,  to  the  mafler  and  the  fervant,  ta 
the  rich  and  the  poor,  to  them  that  buy  and  them  that  fell,  them 

that 


On  I^ktje/s,  2iy 

that  ufe  and  them  that  ahufe  the  world.  Some  duties,  indeedj  re- 
quire privacy  and  retreat.  But  the  mofl:  important  muft  be  per- 
formed in  the  midft  of  the  world,  where  we  are  commanded  to 
flj'ine  as  lights^  and  by  our  good  works  to  glorify  our  Father  which  is 
in  heaven.  This  world,  as  the  context  reprefents  it,  is  God's  vine- 
yard, where  each  of  us  has  a  tafk  alfigned  him  to  perform.  In 
every  ftation,  and  at  every  period  of  life,  labour  is  required.  At 
the  third,  the  fixth,  or  the  eleventh  hour,  we  are  commanded  to 
work,  if  we  would  not  incur,  from  the  great  Lord  of  the  vine- 
yard, this  reproof,  Why  /land  ye  here  all  the  day  idleP — We  may,  I 
confefs,  be  bufy  about  many  things,  and  yet  be  found  negligent 
of  the  one  thing  needful.  We  may  be  very  active,  and,  withal,  very 
ill  employed,  But  though  a  perfon  may  be  induftrious  without 
being  religious,  I  muft  at  the  fame  time  admonifli  you,  that  no 
man  can  be  idle  without  being  finful.  This  1  fhaH  endeavour  to 
fhow  in  the  fequel  of  the  dilcourfe  ;  wherein  I  purpofe  to  reprove 
a  vice  vi'hich  is  too  common  among  all  ranks  of  men.  Superiors 
admonifli  their  inferiors,  and  parents  tell  their  children,  that  idlenefs 
is  the  mother  of  every  fm ;  while,  in  their  own  pradice,  they 
often  fet  the  example  of  what  they  reprobate  feverely  in  others. 
I  fhall  (ludy  to  Ihow,  that  the  idle  man  is,  in  every  view,  both 
fooli(h,  and  criminal;  that  he  neither  lives  to  God  ;  nor  lives  to 
the  world;  nor  lives  to  himfelf. 

I.  He  lives  not  to  God.  The  great  and  wife  Creator  certainly 
does  nothing  in  vain.  A  fmall  meafure  of  refledlion  might  con- 
vince every  one,  that  for  fome  ufeful  purpofe  he  was  fent  into  the 
world.  The  nature  of  man  bears  no  mark  of  infignificancy,  or 
negled.  He  is  placed  at  the  head  of  all  things  here  below.  He  is- 
furniihed  with  a  great  preparation  of  faculties  and  powers.  He 
is  enlightened  by  reafon  with  many  important  difcoveries ;  even 
taught  by  revelation  to  eonfider  himfelf  as  ranlomed,  by  the  death 
of  Chriit,  from  mifery ;  and  intended  to  rife,  by  gradual  advances^ 
to  a  ftill  higher  rank  in  the  univerfe  of  God.  In  fuch  a  fiiua- 
tion,  thus  dillinguiihed,  thus  favoured  and  affifted  by  his  Creator, 
can  he  hope  to  be  forgiven,  if  he  aim  at  no  improvement,  if  he 
purfue  no  ufeful  defign,  live  for  no  other  purpofe  but  to  indulge 
in  floth,  to  confurije  the  fruits  of  the  earth,  and  to  fpend  his 
days  ia  a  dreaiii  of  vanity  I  Exiitence  is  a  facred  truft  j  and  he 

who 


^i8  On  Idlenefs, 

wlio  thus  niifemploys,  and  fquanders  it  away,  is  treacherous  to  rrt 
Author. — Look  around  you,  and  you  will  behold  the  whole  uni- 
verle  full  of  active  powers.  A6lion  is,  to  fpeak  fo,  the  genius  of 
nature.  By  motion  and  exertion,  the  fyftem  of  being  is  preferv- 
ed  in  vigour.  By  its  ditterent  parts  always  ading  in  fubordina. 
tion  one  to  another,  the  perfedion  of  the  whole  is  carried  on.  The 
heavenly  bodies  perpetually  revolve.  Day  and  night  inceflantly 
repeat  their  appointed  courfe.  Continual  operations  are  going 
on  in  the  earth,  and  in  the  waters.  Nothing  (lands  ftill.  All  is 
alive,  and  flirring,  throughout  the  univerfe. — In  the  rnidft  of  this 
animated  and  bufy  fccne,  is  man  alone  to  remain  idle  in  his  place  \ 
Belongs  it  to  him,  to  be  the  fole  inactive  and  flothfnl  being  in  the 
creation,  when  he  has  fo  much  allotted  him  to  do ;  when  in  fo 
many  various  ways  he  might  improve  his  own  nature,  might  ad. 
vance  the  glory  of  the  God  who  made  him ;  and  contribute  his 
part  to  the  general  good  \ 

Hardly  is  there  any  feeling  of  the  human  heart  more  natu- 
ral, or  more  univerfal,  than  that  of  our  being  accountable  to 
God.  It  is,  what  the  mofl  profligate  can  never  totally  erafe, 
Almoft  all  nations  have  agreed  in  tlie  belief,  that  there  is  to  come 
fome  period,  when  the  Almighty  will  ad  as  the  judge  of  his  crea- 
tures, Prefentiments  of  this,  work  in  every  breaft,  Confcience 
has  already  ercded  a  tribunal,  on  which  it  anticipates  the  fentence 
which  at  that  period  fhall  be  pafied.  Before  this  tribunal  let  us 
fometimes  place  ourfelves  in  ferious  thought,  and  confider  what 
account  we  are  prepared  to  give  of  our  condud:  to  Him  who  mp.de 
us.  "  'I  placed  you,"  the  great  Judge  may  then  be  fuppofed  to 
fay,  "  in  a  ftation  where  you  had  many  occafions  for  action, 
«  and  many  opportunities  of  improvement.  You  were  taught, 
<^  and  you  knew,  your  duty.  Throughout  a  ccurfe  of  years  I 
<<  continued  your  life.  I  furrounded  you  with  friends,  to  whom 
<^  you  might  be  ufeful.  I  gave  you  health,  eafe,  leifure,  and  va- 
'«  rious  advantages  of  fituation. — Where  are  the  fruits  of  thofe 
«  talents  which  you  polTefled  ?  What  good  have  you  done  with 
<^  them  to  yourfelves?  what  good  toothers?  How  have  you  filled 
*'  up  your  place,  or  anfwered  your  deflination  in  the  world? 
<'  Produce  fome  evidence,  of  your  not  having  exited  altogether 
<<  in  vain,'^ — Let  fuch  as  are  now  mere  blanks  in  the  world, 

and 


On  Idlcneff,  It^ 

and  a  burden  to  the  earth,  think  what  an  anfwer  they  will  give 
to  thofe  awful  queftions. 

II.  Thk  idle  live  not  to  the  world,  and  their  fellow-creatures 
around  them,  any  more  than  they  do  to  God.  Had  any  man  a 
title  to  Ibnd  alone,  and  to  be  independent  of  his  fellows,  he  might 
then  coniider  himfelf  as  at  liberty  to  indulge  in  fijlitary  eafe  and 
(loth,  without  being  refponfible  to  others  for  the  manner  in  which 
he  chofe  to  live.  But,  on  the  face  of  the  earth,  there  is  no  Rich 
perfon,  from  the  king  on  his  throne,  to  the  beggar  in  his  cottage. 
We  are  all  connedled  with  one  another,  by  various  relations  ; 
which  create  a  chain  of  mutual  dependence,  reaching  from  the 
hip;heft  to  the  loweil:  flation  in  lociety.  The  order  and  happinefs 
of  the  world  cannot  be  maintained,  without  a  perpetual  circula- 
tion of  adtive  duties  and  offices,  which  all  are  called  upon  to  per- 
form in  their  turn.  Superiors  are  no  more  independent  of  their 
inferiors,  than  thefe  inferiors  are  of  them.  Each  have  demands 
and  claims  upon  the  other ;  and  he,  who  in  any  fituacion  of  life* 
refufes  to  a6l  his  part,  and  to  contribute  his  fiiare  to  the  general 
flock  of  felicity,  deferves  to  be  profcribed  from  fociety,  as  an  un- 
worthy member.  If  any  man  will  not  ivork,  fays  the  Apoftle  Paul, 
neither  pall  he  eat*  If  he  will  do  nothing  to  advance  the  purpof- 
es  of  fociety,  he  has  no  title  to  enjoy  the  advantages  of  it. 

It  is  fometirnes  fuppofed,  that  induflry  and  diligence  are  duties 
required  of  the  poor  alone,  and  that  riches  confer  the  priviledge 
of  being  idle.  This  is  fo  far  from  being  juftiHed  by  reafon,  how 
often  foever  it  may  obtain  in  fad,  that  the  higher  one  is  raifed  in, 
the  world,  his  obligation  to  be  ufeful  is  proportionably  increafed. 
The  claims  upon  him,  from  various  quarters,  multiply.  The  fphere. 
of  his  adlive  duties  widens  on  every  hand.  Even  fuppofing  hija 
exempted  from  exerting  himfelf  in  behalf  of  his  inferiors,  fuppofing 
the  relation  between  fuperiors  and  inferiors  aboliOied,  the  relation 
among  equals  muft  ftiU  fubfift.  If  there  be  no  man,  however 
high  in  rank,  who  ftands  not  frequently  in  need  of  the  good  of. 
fices  of  his  friends,  does  he  think  that  he  owes  nothing  to  them  in 
return?  Can  he  fold  his  arms  in  felfifii  indolence,  and  exped  to 
be  ferved  by  others  if  he  will  not  exert  himfelf,  in  doing  fervice 
to  any?— Were  there  no  other  call  to  iiiduilry,  but  the  relation 

C  c  h\ 

*  2  rhef,  iii,   ic. 


110  On  Idlenefs, 

in  which  every  one  rcands  to  his  own  family,  (he  remembrance 
of  this  alone,  fhoulcl  make  the  man  of  icilenefs  blufli.  Pretends 
he  to  love  thofe  with  whom  he  is  connected  by  the  deareft  ties, 
and  yet  will  he  not  beflir  himfelf  for  their  guidance,  their  fupport, 
or  their  advancement  in  the  world?  How  immoral,  and  cruel,  is 
the  part  he  acis,  who  (lumbers  in  fenfual  eafe,  while  the  wants  and 
demands  of  a  hclplefs  family  cry  aloud,  but  cry  in  vain,  for  his 
vigorous  exertions  ?  Is  this  a  hufband,  is  this  a  father,  that  deferves 
to  be  honoured  with  thofe  facrcd  names?  How  many  voices  will 
ije  lifted  up  againft  him,  at  the  laft  day  ?  Let  inch  perfons  reniem- 
.ber  the  awful  words  of  fcripture,  and  tremble.  It  is  written  in 
the  Firft  Epiflle  to  Timothy,  the  fifth  chapter,  and  eighth  verfe, 
Jf  any  provide  not  for  his  own,  andfpecially  for  thofe  of  his  own  houfe^ 
he  hath  denied  the  faith,  and  is  worfe  than  an  wfideL 

III.  The  idle  man  hves  not  to  himfelf,  with  any  more  advan- 
tage than  he  lives  to  the  world.  It  is  indeed  on  a  fuppofition  en- 
tirely oppofite,  that  perfons  of  this  character  proceed.  They  ima- 
gine that,  how  deficient  foever  they  may  be  in  point  of  duty,  they 
at  leaft  confult  their  own  fatisfadion.  They  leave  to  others  the 
drudgery  of  life;  and  betake  themfelves,  as  they  think,  to  the 
quarter  of  enjoyment  and  eafe.  Now,  in  contradidion  to  this, 
1  afTert,  and  hope  to  prove,  that  the  idle  man,  firft,  fliuts  the  door 
againfl  all  improvement ;  next,  that  he  opens  it  wide  to  every  de- 
flrudive  folly  ;  and  laftly,  that  he  excludes  himfelf  from  the  true 
enjoyment  of  pleafure. 

First,  He  fhuts  the  door  againfl  improvement  of  every  kind, 
whether  of  mind,  body,  or  fortune.  The  law  of  our  nature,  the 
condition  under  which  we  were  placed  from  our  birth,  is,  that  no- 
thing good  or  great  is  to  be  acquired,  without  toil  and  induftry. 
A  price  is  appointed  by  Providence  to  be  paid  for  every  thing ; 
and  the  price  of  improvement,  is  labour.  Induftry,  may,  indeed^ 
be  fometimes  difappointed.  The  race  may  not  be  always  to  thefwijt, 
nor  the  battle  to  the  ftrong.  But,  at  the  fame  time,  it  is  certain 
that,  in  the  ordinary  courfe  of  things,  without  ftrength,  the  bat- 
tle cannot  be  gained ;  without  fv/ifmefs,  the  race  cannot  be  run 
with  fuccefs.  In  all  labour,  fays  the  wife  man,  there  Is  profit ;  but 
the  foul  of  the  fluggard  defireth,  and  hath  nothing,*     If  we  confult 

either 
*  Prjry.  xiv.  ^3.     xiii.  3. 


On  Idknefs.  ■22t 

either  the  improvement  of  the  mind,  or  the  health  of  the  body,  it 
is  well  known  that  exercife  is  the  great  inftrument  of  promoting 
both.  Sloth  enfeebles,  equally,  the  bodily  and  the  mental  powers. 
As  in  the  animal  fydem  it  engenders  difeafe,  fo  on  the  faculties  of 
the  foul  it  brings  a  fatal  rull,  which  corrodes  and  waftes  them ; 
which,  in  a  (liort  time,  reduces  the  brighteft  genius  to  the  fame 
level  with  the  meaneli  underftanding.  The  great  differences  which 
take  place  among  men,  are  not  owing  to  a  diftin(lVion  that  nature 
has  made  in  their  original  powers,  fo  much  as  to  the  fuperior 
diligence  with  which  fome  have  improved  thefe  powers  beyond  o- 
thers.  To  no  purpofe  do  we  polTef*  the  feeds  of  many  great  abi- 
lities, if  they  arefuffered  to  lie  dormant  within  us.  It  is  not  the 
latent  polFeflion,  but  the  adive  exertion  of  them,  which  gives 
them  merit.  Thoufands,  whom  indolence  has  funk  into  contemp- 
tible obfcurity,  might  have  come  forward  to  the  higheft  diftindion, 
if  idlenefs  had  not  fruftrated  the  efFed  of  all  their  powers. 

Instead  of  going  on  to  improvement,  all  things  goto  decline, 
with  the  idle  man.  His  character  falls  into  contempt.  His  for- 
tune is  confumed.  Diforder,  confufion,  and  embarralTment^  mark 
his  whole  fituation.  Oblerve  in  what  lively  colours  the  ftate  of 
his  affairs  is  defcribed  by  Solomon,  /  went  by  the  field  oj  the  ftoth-^ 
fulj  and  by  the  vineyard  of  the  man  void  of  under]} anding.  And  lo  / 
it  was  all  grown  over  with  thorns  ;  and  nettles  had  covered  the  facs 
thereof ;  and  the  ft  one  wall  thereof  was  broken  down.  Then  If  aw  and 
cmfidered  it  well.  I  looked  upon  it,  and  received  inftru^ion.-^  In 
the  niidft,  too,  of  thofe  diftrelFes  which  idlenefs  brings  on  its  vota- 
ries, they  muft  fubmit  to  innumerable  mortifications,  which  never 
tail  to  attend  their  fliameful  conduct.  They  muft  reckon,  on  fee^ 
ing  themfelves  contemned  by  the  virtuous  and  wife,  and  flighted 
by  the  thriving  part  of  mankind.  They  muft  expe(^  to  be  left 
behind  by  every  competitor  for  rank  or  fortune.  They  will  be 
obliged  to  humble  themfelves  before  perfons,  now  far  their  fupe- 
riofo  in  the  world,  whom,  once,  they  would  have  difdained  to 
acknowledge  as  their  equals. — Is-it  in  this  manner,  that  a  man 
lives  to  himfelf  ?  Are  thefe  the  advantages,  which  were  expected 
to  be  found  in  the  lap  of  eafe  ?  The  down  may  at  flrfl  have  appear- 
ed fofc :  But  it  will  foon  be  found  to  cover  thorns  innumerable. 

Hovj^ 
t  Prov.  xjciv,  30;  3 1;  32. 


222  On  Jdkucfs, 

How  long  'Milt  thoujlcepf  0  Jluggard  P  IV hen  wUt  thu  arife  out  of  thy 
Jleep  P  Yet  a  little  flcep  ;  yet  a  little  (lumber ,  a  little  Joldhig  of  the 
hands  to  fkep.  So  f  mil  thy  prverty  come  a;  one  that  travelltth  ;  and 
ihy  want  as  an  armed  man.X — ^JUt  this  is  only  a  fmall  part  of  the 
evils  which  peiTons  of  this  deftription  bring  on  themftlves :  Yov, 

In  the  fecond  pince,  while  in  this  manner  they  Hjiu  the  door 
ajrainil  every  improvement,  they  open  it  wide  to  the  moll  de- 
itruclive  vices  and  lollies.  1  he  liunian  mind  cannot  remain  al- 
ways unemployed.  Its  paflions  muft  have  iome  exercife.  If  we 
fupply  them  not  Vv'ith  proper  employment,  they  are  fnre  to  run 
loofe  into  riot  and  diforder.  While  we  are  unoccupied  by  what 
3S  good,  evil  is  continually  at  hand  ;  and  hence  it  is  laid  in  Scrip- 
ture, that  as  fcon  as  Satan  fctnul  the  houfe  empty,  he  took  poflef- 
fion,  and  filled  it  with  evil  fplrltsA  Every  man  vvlio  recolleds 
his  condudi,  may  be  fatisfied,  that  his  hours  of  idlene's  have  al- 
ways proved  the  hours  mod  dangerous  to  virtue.  It  was  then, 
that  criminal  defircs  arofe ;  guilty  purfuits  were  iljggefled ;  and 
defigns  were  formed,  which,  in  their  iflue,  have  difquieted  and 
embittered  his  whole  life.  If  feafons  of  idlenefs  be  dangerous, 
Avhat  muft  a  contitnued  habit  of  it  prove?  Habitual  indolence,  by 
a  filent  and  fecret  progrcfs,  undermines  every  virtue  in  the  Ibu). 
More  violent  pa(ilor:S  run  their  courfe,  and  terminate,  Tliey  are 
like  rapid  torrents,  which  foam,  and  fvv-ell,  and  bear  down  every 
thing  before  them.  But  after  having  overflowed  their  banks,  their 
impetuofity  fubfides.  They  return,  by  degrees,  into  their  natu- 
lal  channel;  and  the  damage  which  they  have  done,  can  be  re- 
paired. Sloth  is  like  the  fiowly. flowing,  putrid  flream,  which 
flngnatcs  in  the  marfh,  breeds  venomous  animals,  and  poifonous 
plants ;  and  infecls  with  peftilential  vapours  the  whole  country 
round  it.  Having  oikc  tainted  the  foul,  it  leaves  no  part  of  it 
found  ;  and  at  the  fame  time,  gives  not  thofe  alarms  to  confci- 
cncc,  vvhith  the  eruptions  of  bolder  and  fiercer  emotions  ofren  oc- 
cafion.  llie  difcafe  which  it  brings  on,  is  creeping  and  infidious; 
and  is,  on  that  account,  niore  certainly  niortal. 

One  conftant  effect  of  idlenefs,  is  to  nourilh  the  paflions,  and, 
of  courfe,  to  heighten  our  demands  for  gratification;  while  it  un- 
happily withdraws  from  us  the  proper  means  of  gratifying  thefe 

demands 
X  Proi\  xxiv.  33,  3.].     §  Ulatth,  xii,  4.4. 


On  iMenefs^  223 

demands.  If  the  defires  of  the  induftrious  man  be  fet  upon  opu- 
lence or  rank,  upon  the  conveniencies,  or  the  fplendour  of  life,  he 
can  accoinplifli  his  defires,  by  methods  which  are  fair  and  allow- 
able. The  idle  man  has  the  lame  defires  v/ith  the  indiillrious,  but 
not  the  fame  refources  for  compaHing  his  ends  by  hoaourable 
means.  He  mull  therefore  turn  himfelf  to  feek  by  fraud,  or  by 
violence,  what  he  cannot  fubmit  to  acquire  by  indullry.  Hence, 
the  origin,  of  thofe  multiplied  crimes  to  which  idlenefs  is  daily 
giving  birth  in  the  world ;  and  which  contribute  fo  much  to  vio- 
late the  order,  and  to  difturb  the  peace,  of  fociety — In  general, 
the  children  of  idlenefs  may  be  ranked  under  two  denominations 
or  clalTes  of  men  ;  both  of  whom  may,  too  jufdy,  be  termed. 
The  children  of  the  devil.  Either,  incapable  of  any  effort,  they 
are  fuch  as  fmk  into  abfolute  meannefs  of  character,  and  content- 
edly wallow  witii  the  druT'.kard  and  debauchee,  among  the  herd  of 
the  fenfual ;  until  poverty  overtake  them,  or  difeafe  cut  them  off: 
Or,  they  are  fuch  as,  retaining  fome  remains  of  vigour,  are  im- 
pelled, by  their  paffions,  to  venture  on  a  defperate  attempt  for  re- 
trieving their  ruined  fortunes.  In  this  cafe,  they  employ  the  art 
of  the  fraudulent  gameiter  to  enfnare  the  unwary.  They  iiTue 
forth  with  the  highv.'ayman  to  plunder  on  the  road  ;  or  with  the 
thief  and  the  robber,  they  infeft  the  city  by  night.  From  this 
cbfs,  our  prifons  are  peopled  ;  and  by  them  the  fcafTold  is  furnifa- 
ed  with  thofe  melancholy  admonitions,  which  are  fo  often  deliver- 
ed from  it  to  the  crowd.  Such  are  frequently  the  tragicaj,  but 
well  known,  confequences  of  the  vice  againft  v/hich  I  now  warn 
you. 

In  the  third,  and  laft  place,  how  dangerous  foever  idlenefs  may 
be  to  virtue,  are  there  not  pleafures,  it  may  be  faid,  which  attend 
it  ?  Is  there  not  ground  to  plead,  that  it  brings  a  releafe  from  the 
oppreilive  cares  of  the  world  ;  and  foothes  the  mind  with  a  gentle 
fatisfaction,  which  is  not  to  be  found  amidftthe  toils  of  a  bufyand 
a6live  life? — This  is  an  advantage  which,  lead  of  all  others,  we 
admit  it  to  poQefs.  In  behalf  of  inceiTant  labour,  no  man  con- 
tends. Occallonal  releafe  from  toil,  and  indulgence  of  eafe,  ij» 
what  nature  demands,  and  virtue  allows.  But  what  we  aifert  is, 
that  nothing  is  fo  great  an  enemy  to  the  lively  and  fpirited  enjoy- 
ment of  life,  as  a  relaxed  and  indolent  habit  of  mind.     He  whe 

knows 


«24  ^^  Idlenefs, 

knows  nol  what  it  is  to  labour,  knows  not  what  it  is  to  enjoy  reff.' 
The  fehcitj;  of  huruan  Jife,  depends  on  the  regular  profecution  of 
Ibme  laudable  purpofe  or  object,  which  keef)S  awake  and  enlivens 
all  our  powers.  Our  happinefs  confiib  in  the  purfuit,  much  more 
than  in  the  attainment,  of  any  temporal  good.  Reft  is  agreeable; 
but  it  is  only  from  preceding  labours,  that  reft  acquires  its  true 
reliih.  When  the  mind  is  fufTered  to  remain  in  continual  inac- 
tion, all  its  powers  decay.  It  foon  languiflies  and  fickens;  and 
the  pleafures  which  it  propofed  to  obtain  from  reft,  end  in  tedi- 
oufnefs  and  infipidity.  To  this,  let  that  miferable  fet  of  men  bear 
witnefs,  who,  after  fpending  great  part  of  their  life  in  aftive  in- 
duftry,  have  retired  to  what  they  fancied  was  to  be  a  pleafing  en- 
joyment of  themfelves,  in  w^ealthy  inadlivity,  and  profound  repofe. 
Where  they  expeded  to  find  an  elyfium,  they  have  found  noihing 
but  a  drearj^  and  comfortlefs  wafte.  Their  days  have  dragged 
on,  in  uniform  langour;  with  the  melancholy  remembrance  often 
returning,  of  the  chearful  hours  they  paffed,  when  they  were  en* 
gaged  in  the  honeft  bufmefs,  and  labours  of  the  world. 

We  appeal  to  every  one  who  has  the  leaft  knowledge  or  obfer- 
vation  of-  life,  whether  the  bufy,  or  the  idle,  have  the  moft  agree- 
able enjoyment  of  themfelves?  Compare  them  in  their  families. 
Compare  them  in  the  focieties  with  which  they  mingle ;  and  re- 
mark, which  of  them  difcover  moft  cheerfulnefs  and  gaiety  ;  which 
polTcfs  the  moft  regular  flow  of  fpirits ;  whofe  temper  is  moft  equal . 
whofe  good  humour,  moft  unclouded.  While  the  adive  and  di- 
ligent both  enliven,  and  enjoy,  fociety,  the  idle  are  not  only  a 
burden  to  themfelves,  but  a  burden  to  thofe  with  whom  they  are 
conneded  ;  a  nuifance  to  all  whom  they  opprefs  with  their  company. 
On  whom  does  time  hang  fo  heavy,  as  on  the  flothful  and  lazy? 
To  whom  arc  the  hours  fo  lingering?  Who  are  fo  often  devour- 
ed with  Ipleen,  and  obliged  to  fly  to  every  expedient  which  can 
help  them  to  get  rid  of  themfelves  ?  Inftead  of  producing  tranquil- 
lity, indolence  produces  a  fretful  rcftlefsnefs  of  mind ;  gives  rife 
to  cravings  which  are  never  fatisfied;  nourilhesa  fickly  efleminate 
delicacy,  which  fours  and  corrupts  every  pleafure. 

Enough  has  now  been  faid  to  convince  every  thinking  perfon 
of  the  folly,  the  guilt,  and  the  mifery,  of  an  idle  ftaie.  Let  thefe 
admonitions  ftir  us  up,  to  exert  ourfelves  in  our  different  occupa- 
tions 


On  Idknefs.  ^ig 

tionswitli  that  virtaous  activity  which  becomes  men  andChriftians, 
Let  us  arife  from  the  bed  of  floth  ;  diftribute  our  time  with  atten- 
tion and  care;  and  improve  to  advantage  the  opportunities,  which 
Providence  has  beftowed.  The  material  bufinefs  in  which  our  fe- 
veral  ftations  engage  us,  may  often  prove  not  fufFicient  to  occupy 
the  whole  of  our  time  and  attention.  In  the  life  even  of  bufy  men, 
there  are  frequent  intervals  of  leifure.  Let  them  take  care,  that 
into  thefe,  none  of  the  vices  of  idlenefs  creep.  Let  fome  fecon- 
dary,  fome  fubfidiary  employment,  of  a  fair  and  laudable  kind,  be 
aUvays  at  hand  to  fill  up  thofe  vacant  places  of  life,  which  too  ma- 
ny afTign,  either  to  corrupting  amufements,  or  to  mere  inadion. 
We  ought  never  to  forget,  that  entire  idlenefs  always  borders 
either  on  mifery,  or  on  guilt. 

At  the  lame  time,  let  the  courfe  of  our  employments  be  order- 
ed in  fuch  a  manner,  that  in  carrying  them  on,  we  may  be  alfa 
promoting  our  eternal  interell.  With  the  bufinefs  of  the  w  orld, 
let  us  properly  intermix  the  cxercifes  of  devotion.  By  religious 
duties,  and  virtuous  adions,  let  us  ftudy  to  prepare  ourfelves  for  a 
better  world.  In.  the  midft  of  our  labours  for  this  life,  it  is  ne- 
ver to  be  forgotten,  that  we  mwUfirJi  feek  the  kingdom  of  God,  and  his 
right eoufnefs  ;  and  give  diligence  to  make  our  calling  and  ele^iion  fare, 
Otherv^ife,  how  adive  foever  we  may  feem  to  be,  our  whole  ac- 
tivity will  prove  only  a  laborious  idlenefs:  We  fhall  appear  in  the 
end,  to  have  been  bufy  to  no  purpofe,  or  to  a  purpofe  worfe  than 
none.  Then  only  we  fulfil  the  proper  charader  of  Chriilians, 
when  we  join  that  pious  zeal  which  becomes  us  as  the  fervants  of 
God,  with  that  induftry  which  is  required  of  us,  as  good  mem» 
bers  of  fociety  ;  when,  according  to  the  exhortation  of  the  Apolllc;, 
we  are  found  ml  Jlothful  in  hufmefs,  and  at  tlie  lame  time,  ferv^rj 
in  ffirit y  ferving  the  Lord^^ 

SER. 
*  Rom,  xii,  11, 


I  226  ] 

SERMON     XL. 

On  the  Sense  of  the  Divine  Presence, 

Psalm  Ixxiii.  23. 
1  am  continually  with  thee ' 


w 


'E  live  in  a  world  which  is  full  of  the  divine  prefence  and 
power.  We  behold  every  where  around  us  the  tr?.ces  of  that 
fupreme  goodnefs,  which  enlivens  and  fupports  the  univerfe.  Day 
utterethjpeech  of  it  to-day;  and  night  fl^oiueth  kmvjJedge  cj  it  to.mght. 
Yet,  furrounded  as  we  are  with  the  perfedions  of  God,  meeting 
him  wherever  we  go,  and  called  upon  by  a  thoufand  objecfts,  to 
confefs  his  prefence,  it  is  both  the  misfortune  and  the  crime  of  a 
great  part  of  mankind,  that  they  are  flrangers  to  Him  in  whofe 
■world  they  dwell.  Occupied  with  nothing  but  their  purfuits  of 
intereft  and  pleafure,  they  pafs  through  this  world,  as  though 
God  were  not  there.  The  virtuous  and  reflecting  are  particular- 
ly diflinguilhed  from  the  giddy  and  difiblute,  by  that  habitual  fenfe 
of  the  divine  prefence  which  characterifes  the  former.  To  them, 
nothing  appears  void  of  God.  They  contemplate  his  perftctions 
in  the  works  of  nature  ;  and  they  trace  his  Providence  in  the  in- 
cidents of  life.  When  retired  from  the  world,  he  often  employs 
their  meditations.  When  engaged  in  adion,  he  always  influences 
their  condudl.  Wherever  a  pious  man  is,  or  whatever  he  does, 
in  the  ftyle  of  the  text,  he  is  continually  with  Cod. 

The  happy  efFev^  of  this  fentiment  on  the  heart,  is  fully  dif- 
played  in  the  context.  We  fee  it  allaying  all  the  difquiet  which 
the  Pfalmifl,  in  the  preceding  verfes,  defcribes  himlelf  to  have 
fuffered  on  account  of  the  profperity  of  the  wicked.  The  firfb 
refleclion  which  reftored  tranquillity  to  his  mind,  was  the  remeni- 
kr^nce  of  the  prefence  Ql   God.     Nevcrthchf^,  I  am  continually ; 

with 


On  the  Serif e  of,  kc.  !i27 

'whh  thee  ;  thou  hofl  holden  me  by  my  right  hand.  He  became  fen* 
iible,  that  whatever  d iltrefies  the  righteous  might  furfer  for  a  time, 
they  could  not  fail  of  being  compenfated  in  the  end,  by  that  Al- 
mighty Proteflor,  whofe  propitious  prefence  ever  contitiued  to 
furround  them.  Whereupon  follow  thofe  memorable  exprelhons 
pf  his  truft  and  joy  in  God.  Thou  fh alt  guiae  me  •with  thy  counjd  ; 
and  afterwards  receive  me  to  glory.  Whom  have  I  in  heaven  but 
thee  f  and  there  is  none  upon  earth  I  defire  hejides  thee. 

There  are  principally  two  effeds,  which  the  fenfe  of  the  di- 
vine prefence  is  fitted  to  produce  upon  men, — One  is,  to  reiirain 
them  from  vice  ;  the  other,  to  encourage  their  virtue.  Its  ope- 
ration, as  a  check  upon  the  finner,  is  obvious.  The  perpetual 
prefence  of  fo  powerful  and  venerable  a  witnefs,  is  one  of  the 
nioft  awful  confideraiions  which  can  be  addrefTed  to  the  diffoluie. 
It  removes  all  the  fecurity  which  fecrecy  can  be  fup^jofed  to  give 
to  crin)es.  It  aggravates  the  guilt  of  them,  from  being  commit- 
ted in  the  face  of  the  Almighty  ;  and  has  power  to  (tnke  terror 
into  the  heart  of  the  greateft  criminal,  in  the  midft  of  his  mil'. 
deeds. — While  this  principle  of  religion  thus  checks  and  terrifies 
the  finner,  it  produces  alfo  another  effed,  that  of  ftrengthenhig 
and  comforting  the  good  man,  in  the  pradice  of  his  duty.  It  is 
the  influence  of  the  divine  prefence  on  good  men,  which,  in  con- 
fequence  of  the  Pfalmift's  fentiment,  I  purpofe  to  confider.  To 
their  charader,  it  belongs  to  he  continually  -AJith  God.  I  fliall  en- 
deavour to  fliow  the  high  benefit  and  comfort  which  they  derive 
from  fuch  a  habit  of  mind  ;  and  fnall^  for  this  end,  firfi  confider 
their  internal  moral  ftate  ;  and  next,  view  them  as  they  are  aU 
feded  by  feveral  of  the  external  accidents  and  fituations  of  jife. 

Let  us  begin  with  confidering  them  in  their  internal  ftate. 

The  belief  of  the  divine  prefence  ads  upon  them  here,  firit,  as  an 
incitement  to  virtue.  The  prefence  of  one  whom  we  highly 
efleem  and  revere,  of  a  fovereign,  for  inffance,  a  father,  or  a 
friend,  whofe  approbation  we  are  folicitous  to  gain,  is  always 
found  to  exalt  the  powers  of  men,  to  refine,  and  improve  their 
behaviour.  Hence,  it  has  been  given  as  a  rule  by  ancient  moraiifh-, 
that,  in  order  to  excel  in  virtue,  we  fnould  propound  to  ourfelves 
fome.  perfbn  of  eminent  and  diltinguifhed  worth  ;  and  fhould  ^c- 

E)  d  cullorn 


223  On  the  Senft  rf 

cuflom  ourfelves  fo  a£l,  as  if  he  were  {landing  by,  and  beholding 
us.  l^o  the  efteem  and  approbation  of  their  fellow-creatures, 
none  are  irifenfible.  There  are  few  v;ho,  in  the  confpicuous 
parts  of  their  life,  when  they  know  the  eyes  of  the  public  to  be 
fixed  on  them,  a6l  not  their  part  with  propriety  and  decornm. — 
But  wh'at  is  the  obfervation  of  the  public,  what  is  the  prefence  of 
the  greateft  or  wileft  man  on  earth,  to  that  prefence  of  the  Divi- 
Jiity  which  conftantly  furrounds  us  ?  The  man  who  realifes  tc 
his  mind  this  augult  prefence,  feels  a  conflant  incentive  for  ac- 
quitting hiinfelf  with  dignity.  He  views  himfelf  as  placed  on  an 
illuilrious  theatre.  To  have  the  Almighty  for  the  fpe(51ator  and 
witnefs  of  his  conduct,  is  more  to  him  than  if  the  whole  world 
were  afTembled  to  obferve  him.  Men  judge  often  falfely,  always 
imperfectly,  of  what  paiTes  before  them.  They  are  impofed  on 
by  fpecious  appearances ;  and  the  artful  carry  away  the  praife 
which  is  due  to  the  deferving.  Even  fuppcfing  them  to  judge 
fairly,  we  may  want  the  opportunity  of  doing  juftice  to  our  cha- 
racter, by  any  proper  difplay  of  it  in  the  fight  of  the  world. 
Our  fituation  may  bury  in  obfcurity,  thofe  talents  and  virtues 
v.hich  were  entitled  to  command  the  higheft  efteem.  But  he, 
in  whofe  prefence  the  good  man  a6ts,  is  both  an  impartial,  and 
an  unerring  judge  of  worth.  No  fallacious  appearances  impofe 
on  him.  No  fecret  virtue  is  hidden  from  him.  He  is  attentive 
equally  to  the  meaneft  and  the  greateft;  and  his  approbation  con- 
fers eternal  rewards.  The  man,  therefore,  vihofits  the  Lord  ai- 
rways before  hbrij  is  prompted  to  excel  in  virtue  by  motives  which 
are  peculiar  to  himfelf,  and  which  engage,  on  the  fide  of  duty, 
both  honor  and  intereft.  /  kavc  kept  thy  precepts^  fivJ  thy  tejiu 
monies  ;  jor  all  my  ways  are  before  thee,  * 

Supposing,  however,  his  virtuous  endeavours  to  be  faithful, 
many  imperfections  will  attend  them.  A  faultlefs  tenor  of  un- 
blemifhed  life,  is  beyond  the  reach  of  man.  Pallions  will  fome- 
times  overcome  him  ;  and  ambition  or  intereft,  in  an  ur.guarded 
hour,  will  turn  him  afide  into  evil.  Hence,  he  wall  be  afiiamed 
of  himfelf,  and  difquieted  by  a  fenfe  of  guilt  and  folly,  in  this 
ftate,  to  which  we  are  often  reduced  by  the  weaknefs  of  human 
nature,  the  belief  of  God's  coniiiiual  prefence  brings  relief  lo 

the 
*  Pfa/m  cxix.   i68. 


the  Divine  Pre  fence.  229 

the  heart.  It  acted  before  as  an  animating  principle.  It  now 
acts  as  a  principle  of  comfort.  In  the  midft  of  nKiny  imperfec- 
tions, a  virtuous  man  appeals  to  his  divine  witnefs,  for  the  fin- 
cerity  of  his  intentions.  He  can  appeal  to  him  who  knows  his 
framCy  that  in  the  general  train  of  his  conduct,  it  is  his  ftudy  to 
keep  the  law  of  God. 

Mere  law,  among  men,  is  rigid  and  inflexible.  As  no  hu- 
man law.giver  can  look  into  the  hearts  of  his  fubjects,  he  cannot, 
even  though  he  were  ever  prefent  with  them,  eilimate  their  cha- 
radler  cxadly.  He  can  make  no  allowance  for  particular  fitua- 
tions.  He  muft  prefcribe  the  fame  terms  to  all  whom  he  rules  ; 
and  treat  all  alike,  according  to  their  outward  adtions.  But  eve- 
ry minute  diverfity  of  character,  temper,  and  fiiuation,  is  known 
to  God.  It  is  not  only  from  what  hisfervants  do,  but  from  what 
they  feek  to  do,  that  he  forms  his  judgment  of  them.  He  atteiids 
to  all  thofe  circumiiances  which  render  the  trial  of  their  virtue, 
at  any  time,  peculiarly  hard.  He  hears  the  whifper  of  devotion 
as  it  rifes  in  the  foul.  He  beholds  the  tear  of  contrition  which 
falls  in  fccret.  He  fees  the  good  intention  flruggling  in  its  birth  ; 
and  purfues  it,  in  its  progrefs,  through  thofe  various  obftacles 
which  may  prevent  it  from  ripening  into  adion.  Good  men, 
therefore,  in  their  moft  humbled  and  dejeded  Ifate,  draw  fome 
confolation  from  his  knowledge  of  their  heart.  Though  they 
may  fom.etimes  have  erred  from  the  right  path,  they  can  look  up 
to  him  who  is  ever  with  them,  and  fay,  as  an  apoille,  who  had 
grievoCifly  offended,  once  faid  to  his  great  Mafter;  Lord  thou 
kmiveji  all  things  ;  thou  knoweji  that  1  love  ihee^* 

Appealing  thus  to  their  omnifcient  witncfs,  they  are  natural- 
ly foothed  and  encouraged  by  the  hope  of  his  clemency.  At  the 
fame  time,  it  is  the  peculiar  advantage  of  this  fentiment  of  tiie  di- 
vine prefence,  that  it  prevents  fuch  hope  from  flattering  them  too 
much,  or  rifmg  into  undue  prefumption.  For  while  it  encourages, 
it  tends  alfo  to  humble,  a  pious  man.  If  it  encourage  him,  by 
the  reflection  on  all  his  good  difpofitions  being  known  and  attend- 
ed to  by  God,  it  humbles  him,  by  the  remembrance,  that  hisjecret 
fins  alfo  are  ever  In  the  light  of  ihe  divine  countenance.  So  that,  by 
dwelling  under  the  fenfe  of  God  being  continually  with  us,  we 

keep 
*  John  xxi.   I, 


2 no  On  the  Senfe  of 

keep  alive  the  proper  temper  of  a  Chriftian  in  the  foul  ;  humility, 
without  dejedion  ;  fear,  mingled  with  hope.  We  are  cheered, 
without  being  lifted  up.  We  feel  ourfelves  obnoxious  to  the  all- 
obferving  eye  of  juQice  ;  but  are  comforted  with  the  thoughts  oi" 
that  mercy  wliich,  through  Jefus  Chrift,  the  Difcerner  of  all 
hearts  holds  forth  to  the  fincere  and  penitent.  Such  are  the  blefs- 
ed  eftefts  which  this  principle  of  religion  produces  upon  the  in- 
ward moral  Hate  of  a  good  man.     Let  us  now, 

In  the  fecond  place,  confider  his  external  circumftances ;  and 
examine  the  influence  which  the  fame  principle  has  upon  his  hap- 
pinefs,  in  feveral  different  fituations  of  life. 

Let  us  firil  view  him  in  what  the  vi^orld  calls  profperiry;  when 
his  cuTumftances  are  eafy  or  affluent,  and  his  life  flows  inafmooth 
untroubled  ilream.      Here,  it  might  be  thought,  that  a  fenfe  of 
the  divine  prelCiice  could  operate  upon  him  only,  or  chiefly,  for 
promoting  temperance,  and    reitraining  the  diforders  incident  to 
a  profperous  ilate.   Valuable  effedls,  indeed,  thefe  are  ;   and  mofl 
conducive  to  the  true  enjoyment  of  all  that  is  agreeable   in  life. 
But  thougii  it,  doubtlefs,  does  exert  this  falutary  influence,  yet 
it  Itops  not  there.     It  not  only  preferves  the  virtue  of   a    good 
man  amidfl  the  temptations  of  pleafure,  but  it  gives  to  his  profperi- 
ty  a  fecurity,  and  a  peculiar  relifli,   which  to  others  is  ui.kimwn. 
Ke  who  is  without  a  kn^Q  of  God  upon  his  mind,  beholds  in  hu- 
man affairs  nothing  but  a  perpetual  fluduation,  and  viciflltude  of 
events.      He  h  furrounded  with  unknown  caufes,   which  may  be 
working  his  deftruclion   in  fecret.     He  cannot  avoid  perceiving, 
that  there  hangs  over  him  the  irrefidible  arm  of  that  Providence, 
whofe  difpleafure  he  has  done  nothing  to  flay  or  avert.     But  he 
who,' in  the  day  of  profperity,  dwells  with    God,  is   delivered 
from  thofe  difquieting  alarms.     He  dwells  as  with  a  friend  and 
prote<5lor,  from  whom  he  conceives  his  bleffings  to  proceed.     He 
can  appeal  to   him  for  the  thankfulnefs  with  which  he   receives 
them  ;  and  for  his  endciivours  to  employ  them  well.     He  trulls, 
that  the  God  whom  heferves  will  not  forfake  him  ;  that  the  good- 
nefs  which    he   has  already  experienced,  will  continue  to  blefs 
him  ;  and  though  he  believes  hmdelf  not  exempted  from   the 
changes  of  the  world,  yet,  in  the  midft  of  thefe,  he  has  ground 
to  hope,  that  fources  of  comfort  and  hanpinefs  fliall  always  be  left 
open  to  him.  '  Morkover^ 


the  Divine  Prefence,  231 

Moreover,  the  pleafures  of  life,  while  they  laft,  are  unfpeak- 
ably  heightened  by  the  prefence  of  that  Benefactor  who  beftows 
them.  The  pleafing  emotion  of  gratitude  to  the  giver,  mingles 
with  the  enjoyment  of  the  gift.  W  hile  to  the  mere  worldly 
man,  the  whole  frame  of  nature  is  only  a  vaft  irregular  fabric; 
and  the  courfe  of  human  affairs  no  more  than  a  confufed  fucceffiott 
of  fortuitous  events;  all  nature  is  beautified,  and  every  agreeable 
incident  is  enlivened,  to  him  who  beholds  God  in  all  things. 
Hence  arife  a  variety  of  pleafing  fenfations,  to  fill  up  thofe  folitary 
hours,  in  which  external  profperity  fupplies  him  with  no  enter- 
tainment. In  the  fmiling  fcenes  of  nature,  he  contemplates  the 
benignity  of  its  author.  In  ies  fubliaie  obje(^s,  he  admires 
his  majefty.  In  its  awful  and  terrible  ones,  he  adores  his 
power.  He  dwells  in  this  world  as  in  a  magnificent  temple, 
which  is  full  of  the  glory  of  its  founder  ;  and  every  where  views 
nature  offering  up  its  incenfe  to  him,  from  a  thoufand  altars. 
Such  ideas  exalt  and  ennoble  the  human  mind  ;  and  refledt  an 
additional  luftre   on  the  bright nefs  of  profperity. 

From  the  profperous,  let  us  next  turn  to  the  alBi<n:ed  condi- 
tion of  a  good  man.  For,  as  profperity  may,  affliction  certainly 
will,  at  one  time  or  other,  be  his  lot.  It  enters  into  the  appoint- 
ed trial  of  his  virtue  ;  and,  in  one  degree  or  other,  is  the  <looni 
of  all.  Here  we  (hall  find  various  (iiuations  occur,  in  vvhich  no 
relief  is  equal  to  what  a  virtuous  and  holy  man  derives  from  a  fenfe 
of  the  perpetual  prefence  of  God. 

Is  he,  for  itiflance,  thrown  into  an  obfcure  condition  in  the 
world,  without  friends  to  affift  him,  or  any  to  regard  and  confider 
his  ftate  >  He  enjoys  the  fatisfadion  of  thinking,  that  though  he 
may  be  negledcd  by  men,  he  is  not  forgotten  by  God.  Inconfi- 
derable  as  he  is  in  himlelf,  he  knows,  that  he  will  not  be  overlook- 
ed by  the  Almighty,  amidfl  the  infinite  variety  of  beit)g,  or  loft  in 
the  immeniity  of  his  works.  The  poor  man  can,  with  as  much  en- 
couragement as  the  rich  or  great,  lift  up  his  eyes  to  heaven,  and 
fay,  NeViTikeleJs^  0  Lord,  I  am  cm'imtijHy  with  thee  :  Thou  hoUeJt  me 
by  my  right  hand.  The  gracious  pretence  of  that  Supreme  Being 
is  afrcded  by  no  diverfity  of  rank  or  Tortune.  It  imparts  itfelf  alike 
to  all  the  virtuous  and  upright ;  like  its  gloriousimage,  the  fun  in  the 
iiriaament,  which  Iheds  its  rays  equally  upon  the  humble  cottage, 

and 


23 1  On  the  Senfe  rf 

and  upon  the  palace  of  kings.  In  the  prefenceof  the  great  Lord, 
of  heaven  and  earth,  all  the  diilindions  which  vanity  has  contriv- 
ed to  make  among  men,  totally  difappear.  All  ranks  are  on  a  le- 
vel. The  rich  and  the  poor  here  indeed  meet  together  ;  without  any 
other  diftindtion  than  what  arifes  from  the  heart  and  the  foul. 
The  fenfe  of  this,  lifts  the  poor  man  above  contempt;  fupports 
his  fpirits  when  apt  to  be  dejefted ;  and  beflows  dignity  on  the 
part  which  he  acls.  How  inconfidcrabie  foever  that  part  may  ap- 
pear in  the  eflimation  of  an  injudicious  world,  it  is  ennobled  when 
virtuoufly  performed,  by  the  approbation  of  his  divine  witnefs.  He 
can  bear  with  indifference  the  fcorn  of  the  proud,  as  long  as  he 
knows,  that  there  is  one  higher  than  the  higheft  to  regard  him. 
He  can  enjoy  himfejf  with  pleafure  in  his  mean  habitation,  becaufe 
he  believes  that  Goii  dwells  with  him  there.  The  Divine  prelence 
chears  to  him  the  moft  lonely  retreat.  It  accoaipanies  his  freps  to 
the  moft  diiiant  regions  of  the  earth,  If  he  fhould  be  driven  in- 
to exile  from  all  his  friends,  and  obliged  *o  dwell  in  the  uttermnj} 
part  oj  the  fea,  even  there  God's  hand  would  hold  him,  and  his  right 
hand  would  guide  him.  Though  left  without  companion  or  friend, 
he  never  thinks  himfelf  defulate,  as  long  as  he  can  fay,  1  am  Jtill 
ivith  God. 

But  though  raifed  above  obfcurity  or  poverty,  yet,  in  any  fi- 
tuation  of  fort^ne,  calumny  and  reproach  may  be  the  lot  of  the 
fervant  of  God.  His  good  intentions  may  be  mifconftrued  ;  his 
character  unjuftly  traduced  ;  and,  to  the  open  reviling  of  enemies, 
the  more  bitter  unkindnefs  of  friends  may  fometimes  be  joined.  In 
this  fitustion,  when  wounded  in  fpirit,  and,  perhaps,  unable  to 
make  his  innocence  appear,  to  whom  Ihall  he  have  recourfe  for 
defence,  to  whom  make  his  laft  appeal,  but  to  that  God  who  is 
ever  prefent  with  him,  and  who  knoweth  his  heart  ?  How  fre- 
cjuently,  amidft  the  injuftice  and  opreilion  of  the  world,  has  dif- 
trelTed  innocence  had  no  other  relief  but  this  ?  "  God  is  my  wit- 
'*  nefs.  God  is  my  avenger.  He  hath  feen  it;  and  he  will  re- 
*'  pay.''  A  good  confcience,  it  is  true,  is,  of  itfelf,  a  powerful 
fupport.  But  God  is  Lord  of  the  confcience  ;  and  it  is  only  when 
€onne<^ed  with  a  fenfe  ot  divine  prelence  and  approbation,  that  a 
good  confcience  becomes  a  fteady  principle  of  fortitude  in  the 
mind,  under  all  difcouragements.     HencC;  a  virtuous  man  poflels- 


the  Divine  Prefence,  233 

cs  a  high  degree  of  independence,  both  on  the  pralfe,  and  on  the 
cenfiire  of  the  world.  It  is  enough  to  him,  if,  when  undergo- 
ing the  fame  reproaches  which  Job  fuffered  froiii  his  niiftakeii 
friends,  he  can  fay  with  him,  Behold  my  witnefs  is  in  heaven^  and 
my  record  is  on  high,*  He  afFed^s  not  to  divulge  his  good  deeds 
to  the  world.  He  is  without  concern  whether  the  world  be  ac- 
quainted with  them,  or  not.  He  icnoweth,  that  his  Father  which 
is  in  heaven  feeth  in  fecret ;  and  that  his  prayers  and  his  alms  come 
up  in  grateful  memorial  before  him.  With  me,  it  is  a/mall  thing  to 
he  judged  of  you ^  or  of  man's  judgment ;  he  that  judgeth  me  is  the 
Lord.\  He  /hall  bring  forth  my  righteoufnefs ,  at  laft,  as  the  light ^  and 
my  judgment  as  the  noon-day.  In  this  confcioujnefs  of  integrity,  he 
looks  down  with  indifference,  as  from  a  fuperior  ftation,  upon  the 
harlh  cenfures  of  a  giddy  and  ignorant  world.  The  fenfe  of  be- 
ing continually  with  God  diffufes  over  his  foul  a  holy  calm,  which 
unjuft  reproich  cannot  difturb.  In  the  prefence  of  that  auguft 
and  venerable  witnefs,  all  the  noife  and  clamours  of  men,  like  the 
niurmurings  of  a  diftant  ftorm,  die  away. 

Lastly,  Suppofmg  the  chara6ier  of  a  good  man  to  be  untaint- 
ed by  reproach,  fuppoiing  alfo  his  external  fitu^tion  to  be  opulent 
or  diilinguilhed,  many,  notwithftanding,  and  fevere,  are  the  di- 
ftrelTes  to  which  he  may  be  expofed.  Secret  griefs  may  be  prey- 
ing upon  him ;  and  his  heart  left  to  feed  in  filence  on  its  own  bit- 
ternefs.  He  may  labour  under  fore  difeafe,  and  difcern  his  e,irth- 
ly  frame  gradually  mouldering  into  dufl.  He  may  be  deprived 
of  thofe  friends  and  relatives  who  had  been  the  chief  comforts 
of  his  itate  ;  or  may  be  obliged  to  prepare  liimfelf  for  taking  fare- 
wel  of  them  for  ever.  In  the  midft  of  thefe  vaiious  afHiding 
fcenes  of  human  life,  no  confolation  can  be  mere  powerful  than 
what  arifes  from  the  prefence  of  a  divine  protector  and  guar- 
dian, to  whom  our  cafe,  with  all  its  forrows,  is  perfectly  known. 
To  him^  fays  the  Pfalmirt,  /  poured  out  my  complaint.  I  Jhowed 
before  him  my  trouble.  I  looked  on  my  right  hand  and  vie^djed ;,  but 
behold  there  was  no  man  who  cared  for  my  foul,  f  (aid  unto  thee,  0 
Lord,  thou  art  my  rejuge.  When  my  fpirii  was  overwhelmed  with' 
in  mff  then  thou  knewej}  my  path.§ 

*  Job.  xvi.  i9»     f   I  Cor.  iii,  ^.     §  Pfalm  cxhi,  2;  33  4. 


234  ^^  ^^^^  ^^^fi  ^f 

We  all  know,  that  to  communicate  our  grief  to  a  falthfnl 
friend,  often  gives  eafe  and  relief  to  the  burdened  heart.  Such 
communication  we  are  encouraged  to  make,  and  luch  relief  we 
may  expecfl:  to  find,  in  pouring  out  our  heart  before  that  God  in 
ivhom  compajpion  flow.  We  may  have  no  earthly  friend  to  whom 
we  can  with  full  confidence  difclofe  all  our  forrows ;  or  we  may 
want  words  in  which  to  exprefs  them.  But  God  is  the  fearcher  of 
all  hearts;  and  the  hearer  of  all  prayers.  To  the  iecret  anguifli 
of  the  foul,  he  is  no  innattentive  witnefs.  Every  groan  which  is 
heaved  from  the  labouring  bofom,  though  heard  by  no  human  ear, 
reaches  his  throne.  As  he  knows  our /rame,  fo  he  remembers  we 
are  dufi  ;  and  thenc«  light  ar'ifes  to  the  upright  in  darknefs.  For 
the  hope  naturally  fprings,  that  this  beneficent  being  will  pity  them, 
as  a  j other  pitieth  his  children  ;  and  in  the  midfl:  of  thofe  diOrelTcs 
which  the  prefent  circumftances  of  man  render  unavoidable,  will 
fend  them  help  from  hisfandiuary.  Surrounded  with  this  companion- 
ate prefence  of  the  Almighty,  good  men  never  viev/ themlelves  as 
left  in  this  vale  of  tears,  to  bear,  folitary  and  alone,  the  whole 
weight  of  human  w  oe.  In  their  dark,  as  well  as  in  their  brighter 
hours,  God  is  with  them.  Even  in  that  valley  of  the  fliridow  of 
death,  where  no  friend,  no  comforter,  can  go  along  to  aid  them, 
he  is  with  them  ftill.  In  the  laft  extremity  of  nature,  the  rod  and 
Jiaffofthe  Shepherd  of  Ifrae I  Juppori  them. 

Thus  I  have  fhown,  though  in  an  imperfecl  manner,  what 
benefits  holy  men  derive  from  a  habitual  ieufe  of  the  divine  pre- 
fence.  It  animates  and  ftrengthens  their  virtue.  It  enlivens 
and  brightens  their  profperity. — Under  various  forms  of  adverfi- 
ty,  it  affords  them  confolation  and  relief.  Such  confiderations, 
undoubtedly,  form  a  Ih-ong  argument  in  favour  of  a  devout  fpi- 
rit,  and  a  virtuous  life.  But  they  are  confiderations  which  may, 
probably,  be  regarded  by  fome,  as  ideal  and  vifionary  ;  requir- 
ing aid  from  a  heated,  or  enthuliaftic  fancy,  in  order  to  give 
them  force.  1  readily  admit,  that  amidft  the  hurry  and  turbu- 
lence of  the  world,  it  may  be  difiicult  to  bring  thefe  relig  ous 
fentiHients  as  fully  into  view,  as  is  necefiary  for  their  making  a 
juft  imprelTion  on  the  foul.  This  requires  the  effort  of  an  in- 
icUigent  and  feeling  mind  ;  and  therefore  cannot  be  expe(ftcd 
to  be  commonly   found.     To  the  uiirefieding  crowd,  noihii.g 

appears 


the' Divine  Prefence*  235 

appears  real,  but  what  is  expofed  to  fenle.  What  is  invifible,  is 
the  fame  to  them,  as  if  it  had  no  exiftence.  But  by  ihe  grofs- 
nefs  of  their  own  conceptions,  they  have  no  title  to  meafure  thofe 
of  others.  While  they  affedt  to  treat  ail  conliderations  taken  from 
the  fenle  of  the  divine  prefence,  as  vifionary  and  enthuliaftic,  ic 
can,  on  the  contrary,  be  clearly  fhown,  that  they  are  founded  on 
the  mod  certain  and  unqueftionable  principles  of  reafon.  They  ef- 
fentially  belong  not  only  to  revealed,  but  to  natural,  religion.  Their 
reality  can  be  denied  by  none,  but  thofe  who  deny  that  God  ex- 
ifts,  or  that  he  governs  the  world.  For,  if  he  exilt,  he  muft  un. 
doubtedly  pervade  and  infpe^  the  world  which  he  governs.  He 
muft  know  what  is  going  on  throughout  his  own  univerfe  ;  and  ei- 
pecially  muft  know  what  paffes  within  the  hearts  which  he  has  made, 
and  of  which  he  is  to  judge.  To  be  every  where  prefent,  is  the 
attribute  of  his  nature,  which,  of  all  others,  is  the  moft  necefTa- 
ry  to  his  adminiftration  of  the  univerfe.  This,  accordingly,  is  an 
attribute  which  all  religions  have  afcribed  to  him.  All  nations 
have  believed  in  it.  All  focieties  appeal  to  it,  in  the  folemnities 
of  an  oath,  by  which  they  determine  controverfies.  This  attri- 
bute being  once  admitted  to  belong  to  the  Deity,  the  confequences 
which  I  have  deduced  from  it,  plainly  and  naturally  follow :  And 
every  good  man  has  ground  to  fay,  0  Lord  I  am  continually  u^ith 

thee.  c  T-  R 

E  e  S  E  R" 


"«r 


C    ^3^    ] 

SERMON       XLL 

On    Patience. 

Luke  xxi.  19. 
Th  your  patience  po/fe/s  ye  your  fouls. 

THE  pofftjfion  of  our  fouls  is  a  very  emphatical  exprefTion.  It 
defcribes  that  ftate  in  which  a  man  has  both  the  full  com- 
mand, and  the  undifturbed  enjoyment  of  himfelf ;  in  oppofition 
to  his  undergoing  fome  inward  agitation  which  difcompofes  his 
powers.  Upon  the  leafl  reflexion,  it  muft  appear,  how  eflentisl 
fuch  a  ftate  of  mind  is  to  happinefs.  He  only  who  thus  pojejjes  his 
foul,  is  capable  of  poflefTmg  any  other  thing  with  advantage  ;  and 
in  order  to  attain  and  preferve  this  felf-pofl'effion,  the  moft  import- 
ant requifite  is,   the  habitual  exercife  of  patience, 

I  KNOW  that. patience  is  apt  to  be  ranked,  by  many,  among  the 
more  humble  and  obfcure  virtues ;  belonging  chiefly  to  thofe  who 
groan  on  a  fick-bed,  or  who  languifh  in  a  prifon.  If  their  fitua- 
tion  be,  happily,  of  a  different  kind,  they  imagine  that  there  is 
no  occafion  for  the  difcipline  of  patience  being  preached  to  them* 
But  I  hope  to  make  it  appear,  that,  in  every  circumftance  of  life, 
PiO  virtue  is  more  important,  both  to  duty  and  to  happinefs  ;  or 
more  requifite  for  forming  a  manly  and  worthy  character.  It  is 
not  confined  to  a  fituation  of  continued  adverfity.  It  principally, 
indeed,  regards  the  difagreeable  circumflance  which  are  apt  to 
occur.  But,  in  our  prefent  ftate,  the  occurrence  of  thefe  is  fo  fre- 
quent, that,  in  every  condition  of  life,  patience  is  inceA'antly  call- 
ed forth.  Profperity  cannot  be  enjoyed,  any  more  than  adverfi- 
ty fupported,  without  it.  It  muft  enter  into  the  temper,  and  form 
the  habit  of  the  foul,  if  we  would  pafs  through  the  world  with 
tranquillity  and  honour.  What  I  purpofe  is,  to  point  out  fome  of 
the  chief  occafions  on  which  patience  is  required  ;  and  to  recom- 
mend 


On  Patience*  237 

n-end  and  enforce  the  exercife  of  it,  in  order  to  cur  pojjtjjing  our 
Jouls. 

I.  Patience  under  provocations.  The  ^ide  circle  of  human  fo- 
eiety  is  diverfified  by  an  endlefs  variety  of  chara(^ers,  difpofitions 
and  paiTions.  Uniformity  is,  in  no  refpe6l,  the  genius  of  the  world. 
Every  man  is  marked  by  fome  peculiarity  which  diftingui flies  him 
from  another :  and  no  where  can  two  individuals  be  found  who 
are  exadlly,  and  in  all  refpeds,  alike.  Where  fomuchdiverfity  ob. 
tains,  it  cannot  but  happen,  that,  in  the  intercourfe  which  men 
are  obliged  to  maintain,  their  tempers  fhall  often  be  ill  adjufted  to 
that  intercourfe ;  fliall  jar,  and  interfere  with  each  other.  Hence,  m 
every  ftation,  the  higheft  as  well  as  the  loweft,  and  in  every  con- 
dition of  life,  public,  private,  and  domeftic,  occafions  of  irritation 
frequently  arife.  We  are  provoked,  fometimes,  by  the  folly  and 
levity  of  thofe  with  whom  we  are  conneded ;  fometimes  by  their 
indifference  or  negleft ;  by  the  incivility  of  a  friend,  the  haughti- 
nefs  of  a  fuperior,  or  the  infolent  behaviour  of  one  in  lower  fta- 
tion. Hardly  a  day  pafTes,  without  fomewhat  or  other  occurin^r, 
which  ferves  to  ruffle  the  man  of  impatient  fpirit.  Of  courfe  fuch 
a  man  lives  in  a  continual  ftorm.  He  knows  not  what  it  is  to  enjoy 
a  train  of  good  humor.  Servants,  neighbours,  friends,  fpoufe, 
and  children,  all,  through  the  unreftrained  violence  of  his  temper 
become  fources  of  difturbancc  and  vexation  to  him.  In  vain  is 
affluence,  in  vain  are  health  and  profperity.  The  leaft  trifle  is  fuf- 
ficient  to  difcompofe  his  mind,  and  poilon  his  pleafures,  His  very 
amufements  are  mixed  with  turbulence  and  paflion. 

I  WOULD  befeech  this  man  to  confider,  of  what  fmall  moment 
the  provocations  which  he  receives,  or  at  leaft  imagines  himfelf  to 
receive,  are  really  in  themfelves ;  but  of  what  great  moment  he 
makes  them,  by  fuffering  them  to  deprive  him  of  the  pofleffion  of 
himfelf.  I  would  befeech  him  to  confider,  how  many  hours 
of  happinefs  he  throws  away,  which  a  little  more  patience  would 
allow  him  to  enjoy  ;  and  how  much  he  puts  it  in  the  power  of 
the  moft  infignificant  perfons  to  render  him  miferable.  "  But 
'*  who  can  expea,^'  we  hear  him  explain,  '^  that  he  is  to  poflefs 
"  the  infenfibility  of  a  ftone  ?  How  is  it  poflible  for  human  nature  to 
*'  endure fo many  repeated  provocations?  or  to  bear  calmly  with  fuch 
"  unreafonable  behaviour?''— My  brother!  if  you  can  bear  with 

no 


233  ^«  Patience, 

no  inftance  of  nnrea  Ton  able  behaviour,  withdraw  yourfelf  from  the 
world.  You  are  no  longer  fit  to  live  in  it.  Leave  the  intercourfe 
of  men.  Retreat  to  the  mountain,  and  the  defert ;  orfliutyour- 
felf  up  in  a  cell.  For  here,  in  the  niidll  of  fociety,  ojfences  muji 
come.  Yen  mi'^ht  as  well  expc<.%  when  you  behold  a  calm  atmof- 
phere,  and  a  clear  Iky,  that  no  clouds  were  ever  to  rife,  and  no 
winds  to  blow,  as  that  your  life  was  long  to  proceed,  without  re- 
ceiving provocations  from  human  frailty.  The  carelefs  and  the 
imprudent,  the  giddy  and  the  fickle,  the  ungrateful  and  the  inter- 
elled,  every  where  meet  us.  They  are  the  briars  and  the  thorns, 
with  which  the  paths  of  human  life  are  befet.  He  only  who  can 
liold  his  courfe  among  them  with  patience  and  equanimity,  he  who 
is  prepared  to  bear  what  he  nmft  exped  to  happen,  is  worthy  of  the 
name  of  a  man. 

Did  you  only  preferve  yourfelf  compofed  for  a  moment,  yoa 
v/ould  perceive  the  infignificancy  of  moft  of  thofe  provocations 
which  you  magnify  fo  highly.  When  a  few  funs  more  have  roll- 
ed over  your  head,  the  ftorm  will  have,  of  itfelf,  fubfided  ;  the 
caufe  of  your  prelent  impatience  and  difturbance  will  be  utterly 
forgotten.  Can  you  not,  then,  anticipate  this  hour  of  calmnefs 
to  yourfelf;  and  begin  to  enjoy  the  peace  which  it  will  certainly 
bring  ?  If  others  have  behaved  improperly,  leave  them  to  their 
own  folly,  without  becoming  the  vi6lim  of  their  caprice,  and  pu- 
nifliing  yourfelf  on  their  account. — Patience,  in  this  exercife  of  it, 
cannot  be  too  much  (ludied  by  all  who  wifh  their  life  to  flow  in  a 
imooth  ftreani.  It  is  the  reafon  of  a  man,  in  oppofition  to  the 
pallion  of  a  child.  It  is  the  enjoyment  of  peace,  in  oppofition  to 
uproar  and  confuiion.  He  that  hath  no  rule  over  his  own  fpirit,  is 
like  a  ciiy  that  if  broken  down,  and  without  walls, *-r^Tht  next  im- 
portani:  exercife  of  patience  is, 

II.  Patience  under  difappointments,  Thefe  will  often  hap, 
pen  to  the  belf  and  wifeft  men.  Sometimes,  to  the  wifeft  and  hc(t 
concerted  plans.  They  may  happen  too,  not  through  any  impru- 
dence of  ihofe  who  have  devifed  the  plan,  not  even  through  the 
malice  or  ill  defign  of  others ;  but  ^lerely  in  confequcnce  of  fome 
of  thofe  erofs  incidents  of  Hfe  which  could  not  be  forefeen.  On 
fuch  occaiions,  perfons  of  a  warm  and  fanguinc  tcn.per  are  pro- 
fit inly 
*  Prov,  x\v,  2S, 


On  Patioise.  239 

fently  in  a  ferment.  They  had  formed  their  hopes,  as  they 
think,  upon  the  julteft  grounds.  They  had  waited  long  for  fuc- 
cefs  ;  and  borne  with  many  delays.  But  when  their  defigns  are 
brought  to  fo  unexpeded  an  iHiie ;  when,  without  any  fault  of 
their  own,  they  find  their  hopes  finally  blafled,  all  patience  for- 
fakes  them  ;  they  no  longer  poflfefs  their  fouls ;  the  moft  paflion- 
ate  exclamations  break  forth,  '*  To  whom,  except  to  them, 
*' could  fuch  a  difappointment  have  happened?  Since  the  crea- 
*^  tion  of  the  world,  was  fuch  a  combination  of  difaftrous  incidents 
*'  ever  beheld  I  Why  are  they  doomed  to  be  fo  unfortunate  be- 
*' yond  all  others?'^ ^Alas  !  how  unfkilfully  have  you  calcu- 
lated the  courfe  of  human  events?  How  raflily  and  prefumptuouf- 
ly  had  you  trufted  to  fuccefs?  To  whom  was  it  ever  given,  to 
guard  againft  all  the  vicifTitudes  which  the  fluctuating  fafhhn  of 
the  world  is  incefTantly  bringing  about  ?  If  one  friend,  to  whom 
you  looked  up,  has  died,  or  another  has  loll:  his  influence  and 
power ;  if  the  opinion  of  the  public  is  changed,  and  its  favour  has 
been  withdrawn  ;  if  Ibme  miftakes  have  occurred  to  lefTen  the 
good-will  of  a  patron  on  whom  you  depended  ;  if,  through  the 
concurrence  of  thefe,  or  fuch  like  circumffances,  a  more  fortunate 
rival  has  prevailed  againft  you  ;  what  is  there  in  all  this,  that  dif- 
fers from  the  ordinary  lot  of  man  ?  Are  we  not,  each  in  his  turn, 
doomed  to  experience  the  uncertainty  of  worldly  purfuits?  Why, 
then,  aggravate  our  misfortunes  by  the  unreafonable  violence  of 
an  impatient  fpirit  ?  If  our  defigns  have  failed  through  rafhnefs 
or  mifconducl,  let  us  blame  ourfeives.  It  they  have  failed  through 
circumftances  which  we  could  not  prevent,  let  us  fubmit  to  the 
fate  of  man  ;  and  wait,  with  patience,  till  a  more  favourable  op- 
portunity fhall  occur  of  regaining  ibccefs. 

Meanwhile,  let  us  turn  to  the  other  fide  of  the  profped:; 
and  calmly  confider  how  dubious  it  was,  whether  the  fuccefs  which 
we  longed  for,  would  have  proved  a  blefTing.  IVho  knowdh  what 
is  good  for  man  in  this  life?  Perhaps,  the  accomplifliment  of  our 
deligns  might  have  been  pregnant  with  mifery.  Perhaps,  from 
our  prefent  difappointment,  future  profperity  may  rife.  Of  luch 
unlooked  for  ifllies,  we  all  know  there  have  been  many  examples. 
Who  can  tell;  whether  our  cafe  may  not  add  one  to  the  number  I 

—At 


'^4^  ^^  Patience, 

— At  any  rate,  let  us  recolJecl,  that  there  is  a  Supreme  Ruler, 
who  tlifpofes  of  the  affairs  of  men  ;  under  whom,  all  fecond  cauf- 
es  work  only  as  fubordinate  agents.  Looking  up  to  that  irrefifta- 
ble  arm  which  is  llretched  over  our  heads,  let  us  be  calm  ;  let  us 
fuhmit  and  adore.  Either  to  defpsir  or  to  rage,  under  difap- 
pointments,  is  finful.  By  the  former,  we  injure  ourfelvcs.  By 
Tche  latter,  we  infult  Providence,  and  provoke  its  difpleafure  to 
continue.  To  poffcf:  our/ouls  'ni  patience  is,  at  once,  our  wifdom 
as  men,  and  our  duty  as  Chridians.  The  benefits  of  this  virtue 
are  fo  often  reaped  in  this  world,  that  good  policy  alone  would 
recommend  it  to  every  thinking  man.  Difappointments  derange, 
and  overcome,  vulgar  minds.  The  patient  and  the  wife,  by  a 
proper  improvement^  frequently  make  them  contribute  to  their 
high  advantage. -^Let  me  next  recommend, 

III.  Patience  under  reftraints.  Numerous  are  the  reftraintsim- 
pofed  on  us,  by  the  nature  of  the  human  condition.  To  the  re- 
ftraints  of  authority  and  law,  all  muft  fubmit.  The  reftraints  of 
education  and  difcipline  lie  on  the  young.  Confiderations  of 
health  reftrain  the  indulgence  of  pleafure.  Attentions  to  for- 
tune reflrain  expence.  Ptegard  to  friends,  whom  we  are  bound 
to  pleafe  j  refpcd  to  eftablifhed  cuftoms,  and  to  the  opinions  of  fo- 
ciety,  impofe  reflraints  on  our  general  behaviour.  There  is  no 
man,  in  any  rank  of  life,  who  is  always  at  liberty  to  ad  according 
as  he  would  incline.  In  fome  quarter  or  other,  he  is  limited  by 
circumftances,  that  either  adually  confine^  or  that  ought  at  lead 
to  confine  and  reftraiu  him. 

These  reftraints,  the  impatient  are  apt  to  fcorn.  They  will 
needs  burft  the  barriers  which  rcafon  had  erecled,  or  their  fitua- 
tion  had  formed  ;  and  without  regard  to  confequences,  give  free 
fcope  to  their  prefent  wiili.  Hence,  many  dangerous  esceffes 
flow ;  much  confufion  and  mifery  are  produced  in  human  life* 
Had  men  the  patience  to  fubmit  to  their  condition,  and  to  wait 
till  it  fliould  allow  them  a  freer  ir.dulgencc  of-  their  defires,  they' 
might,  in  a  fliort  time,  obtain  the  power  of  gratifying  them  with 
fafety.  If  the  young,  for  infiance,  would  undergo,  with  pati- 
ence,  the  labours  of  education,  they  would  rife,  at  a  proper  period, 
to  honour,  riches,  or  eafe.  If  the  infirm  would,  vv'ith  patience_> 
bear  the  regulations  which  their  conflimtiou  demands,  they  might 


On  Patience^  24 1 

i^gain  the  comforts  of  health.  If  perfons  of  ftraitened  fortune 
had  patience  to  conform  themfelves  to  their  circumitances,  and  to 
abridge  their  pleafures,  they  might,  by  degrees,  improve  and  ad- 
vance their  ftate.  Whereas,  by  eagernefs  of  temper,  and  pre- 
cipitancy of  indulgence,  they  forfeit  all  the  advantages  which  pa- 
tience would  have  procured ;  and  incur  the  oppofite  evils  to  their 
full  extent. 

In  the  prcfent  ftate  of  human  affairs,  no  lefTon  is  more  necef- 
fary  to  be  learned  by  all,  to  be  inculcated  on  the  young,  and  to 
be  praclifed  by  the  old,  than  that  af  patient  fubmiflion  to  necef- 
fity.  For  under  the  law  of  necefilty,  we  are  all  inevitably  placed. 
No  man  is,  or  can  be,  always  his  own  mafter.  VVe  are  obliged, 
in  a  thouland  cafes,  to  fubmit  and  obey.  The  difcipline  of  pa- 
tience preferves  our  minds  eafy,  by  conforming  them  to  our  ftate. 
By  the  impetuofity  of  an  impatient  and  unfubmitting  temper,  we 
fight  againft  an  unconquerable  power;  and  aggravate  the  evils  we 
muft  endure. — Another  important  exercife  of  the  virtue  concern- 
ing which  we  difcourfe,  is, 

IV.  Patience  under  injuries  and  wrongs.  To  thefe,  amidft 
the  prefent  confufion  of  the  world,  all  are  expofed.  No  ftation 
is  fo  high,  no  power  fo  great,  no  character  fo  unblemiflied,  as 
to  exempt  men  from  being  attacked  by  ralhnefs,  malice,  or  envy. 
To  behave  under  fuch  attacks  with  due  patience  and  modera- 
tion, is,  it  muft  be  confeiTed,  one  of  the  moft  trying  exercifes  of 
virtue.—- But,  in  order  to  prevent  miftakes  on  this  fubjed:,  it  is 
necefTary  to  obferve,  that  a  tame  fubmiffion  to  wrongs  is  not  re- 
quired by  religion.  We  are,  by  no  means,  to  imagine,  that  re- 
ligion tends  to  extinguifli  the  lenfe  of  honor,  or  to  fupprefs  the 
exertion  of  a  manly  fpirit.  It  is  under  a  falfe  apprehenfion  of  this 
kind,  that  Chriftian  patience  is  fometimes  ftigmatifed  in  difcourfe, 
as  no  other  than  a  different  name  for  cowardice.  On  the  contra- 
ry, every  man  of  virtue  ought  to  feel  what  is  due  to  his  charac- 
ter, and  to  fupport  properly  his  own  rights.  Refentment  of 
wrong,^is  an  ufeful  principle  in  human  nature;  and  for  the  wifeft 
purpoles,  was  implanted  in  cur  frame.  It  is  the  neeeflary  guard 
of  private  rights  ;  and  the  great  reftraint  on  the  infolence  of  the 
violent,  who,  if  no  refjftance  were  made,  would  trample  on  the 
gentle  and  peaceable. 

Re- 


•242  ^«  PatleMCe, 

Resentment  however,  if  not  kept  within  due  bounds,  is  \n 
hazard  of  rifing  into  fierce  and  cruel  revenge.  It  is  the  office  of 
patience  to  temper  relentment  by  realbn  Iry  this  view,  it  is  rnofl: 
properly  defcribed  in  the  text,  by  a  man's  pojpjjnig  hisjoul;  act- 
ing the  part  which  felf-dcfence,  which  juftice  or  honor,  require 
him  to  a6l,  without  being  traniportcd  out  of  himfelf  by  the  vehe- 
mence of  anger  ;  or  infilling  on  fuch  degrees  of  reparation  as  bear 
no  proportion  to  the  wrong  that  he  has  fufFered.  What  propor- 
tion, for  inftance,  is  there  between  the  life  of  a  man,  and  an  af- 
front received  by  fome  rafli  exprelTion  in  converfation,  which  the 
wife  would  have  flighted  ;  and  which,  in  the  courfe  of  a  few 
weeks,  xvould  have  been  forgotten  by  every  one  ?  How  fantaflic^ 
then,  how  unjuftifiable,  are  thofc  fuppofed  laws  of  modern  ho- 
nor, which  for  fuch  an  affront,  require  no  lefs  reparation  than 
the  death  of  a  fellow-creature;  and  which,  to  obtain  this  repara- 
tion, require  a  man  to  endanger  his  own  life?  Laws,  which  as 
they  have  no  foundation  in  realon,  never  received  the  leaft  fanc- 
tion  from  any  of  the  wife  and  poliflied  nations  of  antiquity  ;  but 
were  devifed  in  the  darkefl  ages  of  the  world,  and  are  derived  to 
us  from  the  ferocious  barbarity  of  Gothic  manners. 

Nothing  is  fo  inconfiftent  with  felf-poirellion,  as  violent 
anger.  It  overpowers  reafon  ;  confounds  our  ideas,  diftorts  the 
appearance,  and  blackens  the  colour,  of  every  objedl.  By  the 
{lorm  which  it  raifes  within,  and  by  the  mifchiefs  which  it  occafions 
without,  it  generally  brings  on  the  paflionate  and  revengeful 
man,  greater  mifery  than  he  can  bring  on  his  enemy.  Patience 
allays  this  deftruftive  tempefl,  by  making  room  for  the  return  of 
calm  and  fober  thought.  It  fufpends  the  blow  which  fudden 
refentrnent  was  ready  to  inflicl.  It  difpofes  us  to  attend  to  the 
alleviating  circumftances,  which  may  be  difcovered  in  the  midft 
of  the  wrongs  we  fuppofe  ourfelves  to  have  fuffered.  Hence,  it 
naturally  inclines  us  to  the  moderate  and  o-entle  fide ;  and 
while  it  allows  all  proper  meafures  to  be  taken,  both  for  fafeiy  and 
for  juft  redrefs,  it  makes  way  for  returning  peace.  Without  fome 
degree  of  patience  exercifed  under  injuries,  human  life  would  be 
rendered  a  flate  of  perpetual  hoftility  ;  offences  and  retaliations 
would  fucceed  to  one  another  in  endles  train  ;  and  the  world  would 
become  a  field  of  blood. — It  now  reaiains  to  recommend, 

V.  Patience 


On  Pattenee*  §4  j 

Vi  Patience  under  adverfity  and  afHi£lIon.  This  is  the  moll 
common  fenfe  in  which  this  virtue  is  underftood  ;  as  it  refped:^ 
difeafe,  poverty,  old  age,  lofs  of  friends,  and  the  other  calamities 
which  are  incident  to  human  life.  Though  a  man  live  many  y^ars, 
and  rejoice  in  thetn  all,  yet  let  him  remember  the  days  of  darkntfsy 
for  they  fh all  he  many.*  The  various  duties  to  which  patience,  un- 
der this  view,  gives  rife,  afford  a  larger  fubjed  to  difcourfe  than 
I  am  atprefent  topurfue.  In  general,  there  are  two  chief  exercife^ 
of  patience  under  advernty ;  one  refpedling  God,  and  another  re- 
fpeding  men. 

Patience,  with  refpeft  to  God,  mufl:,  in  the  days  of  trouble, 
fupprefs  the  rifmgs  of  a  murmuring  and  rebellious  fpirit.  It  mnft 
appear  in  that  calm  refignation  to  the  will  of  heaven,  which  is 
exprefled  in  thofe  pious  fentiments  of  ancient  good  men:  I nvas 
dumb  ;  I  opened  not  my  mouth,  hecaufe  thou  didjJ  it.  It  is  the  Lord, 
let  him  do  what  feemeth  good  in  his  eyes.  Shall  we  receive  good  at. 
the  hand  of  the  Lord,  andfoall  we  not  receive  evil  alfo  P  This  is  loy- 
alty to  the  great  Governor  of  the  univerle.  This  is  that  reverer.Le 
which  ^o  well  becomes  creatures  who  know  they  are  dependent,  and 
who  muft  confefs  themfelves  to  be  fmful.  Such  a  fpirit  is  fitted  to 
sttra6t  the  favour  of  Heaven ;  and  to  bring  the  fevere  vifitation 
fooner  to  a  clofe.  Whereas  the  ftubborn  and  impatient,  who  fub- 
mit  not  themfelves  to  the  decrees  of  the  Molt  High,  require  to  be 
humbled  and  fubdued  by  a  continuance  of  chafbfenient. 

Patience  in  adverfity,  with  refpe£l  to  men,  muft  appear  by  the 
compofure  and  tranquillity  of  our  behaviour.  The  loud  complaint, 
the  querulous  temper,  and  fretful  fpirit,  difgraee  every  charader. 
They  Ihow  a  mind  that  is  unmanned  by  miifortunes.  We  weak- 
en thereby  the  fympathy  of  others ;  and  eftrange  them  from  the 
ofEces  of  kindnefs  and  comfort.  The  exertions  of  pity  will  be 
feeble,  when  it  is  mingled  with  contempt.  At  the  fame  time,  by 
thus  weakly  yielding  to  adverfity,  we  allow  its  weight  to  bear  us 
down  with  double  prelfure.  Patience,  by  preferving  compolure 
within,  refills  the  impreflion  which  trouble  makes  from  without. 
By  leaving  the  mind  open  to  every  confolaticn,  it  naturally  tends 
to  alleviate  our  burden. — To  maintain  a  fteady  and  unbroken  mind, 
amidft  all  the  fliocks  of  the  world,  forms  the  higheft  honour  of  a 
F  f  man. 

*  Ecckf  xi.  8. 


^44  On  Patience, 

man.  Patience,  on  fuch  occafions,  riles  to  magnanimity.  It  /hows 
a  great  and  noble  mind,  which  is  able  to  reft  on  itfelf,  on  God, 
and  a  good  confcience;  which  can  enjoy  itfelf  amidft  all  evils  ;  and 
would  rather  endure  the  greateft  hardlhips,  than  fubmit  to  what  was 
difhon Durable,  in  order  to  obtain  relief.  This  gives  proof  of  a 
ftrength  that  is  derived  from  Heaven.  It  is  a  beam  of  the  Im- 
mortal Light,  fliining  on  the  heart.  Such  patience,  is  the  mofl 
complete  triumph  of  religion  and  virtue;  and  accordingly  it  has 
ever  charadterifed  thofe  whofe  names  have  been  tranfmitted  with 
honour  topofterity.  It  has  ennobled  the  hero,  the  faint,  and  the 
martyr.  We  are  troubled  on  every  fide,  yet  not  dtjlrejjed;  ive  are 
perplexed,  hut  not  hi  defpair  ;  perfecuted,  hut  not  forfaken  ;  cajl  down, 
hut  not  dejlroyed.* 

Thus  I  have  traced  Patience  through  feveral  of  its  moft  important 
operations,  in  different  circumftanccs  of  life;  under  provocations; 
under  difappointments ;  under  reftraints  ;  under  injuries  ;  and  un- 
der afflidions.  We  now  fee,  that  it  is  a  virtue  of  univerfal  ufe. 
No  man,  in  any  condition,  can  pafs  his  days  with  tolerable  com- 
fort, who  has  not  learned  to  pradife  it.  His  profperity  will  be 
continually  difturbed ;  and  his  adverfity  will  be  clouded  with  double 
darknefs.  He  will  be  uneafy  and  troublefome  to  all  with  whom 
he  is  conneded;  and  will  be  more  troublefome  to  himfelf  than 
to  any  other. — Let  me  particularly  advife  thofe  who  wifli  to  cuL 
tivate  fo  neccffary  a  virtue,  to  begin  their  cultivation  of  it,  on  oc- 
cafions when  fmall  offences  and  provocations  arile.  It  is  a  great, 
but  common,  error  to  imagine,  that  we  are  at  liberty  to  give  loofe 
reins  to  temper,  among  the  trivial  occurrences  of  life.  No  excufe 
for  irritation  and  impatience,  can  be  worfe,  than  what  is  taken 
from  the  perfon  being  inconfiderable,  or  the  incident  being  flight, 
which  threw  us  off  our  guard.  With  inconfiderable  perlbns  we 
are  furrounded.  Of  flight  incidents,  the  bulk  of  human  life  is  com. 
pofed.  In  the  raidft  of  thefe,  the  ruling  temper  of  the  mind  is 
formed.  It  is  only  by  moderation  and  felf-command  then  acquir- 
ed, that  we  can  inure  ourfelves  to  patience,  when  the  great  con- 
junctures  of  life  fliall  put  it  to  a  feverer  trial.  If  neglected  then, 
we  fhall  afterwards  folicit  its  return  in  vain.  If  thou  haft  run  with 
footmen,  and  they  have  wearied  thee,  how  canfi  thou  contend  with  horf- 

€SP 

*  2  Cor,  iv.  d,  9, 


On  Patience,.  245 

es?  And  if  in  the  land  of  peace,  wheftin  thou  truflefi,  ihey  wearied 
thee,  then  how  wilt  thou  do  in  the  fwellings  of  Jordan  ?f 

In  order  to  alTid  us  in  the  acqivfition  of  this  grace,  let  ns  often 
contemplate  that  great  model  of  it,  which  isi  difplayed  in  the  whole 
life  of  our  Saviour  Jefus  Chrift.  Whofe  temper  was  ever  tried 
by  more  frequent  provocations,  more  repeated  difappointments,more 
flagrant  injuries,  or  more  fevere  diftrefs?  Yet,  amidfl  them  all, 
we  behold  him  patiently  enduring  the  contradicHon  of  [inner 5 ;  to 
their  rudenefs,  oppofing  a  mild  and  unruffled,  though  firm,  fpirit : 
and,  in  the  caufe  of  mankind,  generoufly  bearing  with  every  in- 
dignity. Well  might  he  fay.  Learn  of  me,  for  I  am  meek  and  low- 
ly in  heart. ^  Having  fuch  a  high  example  before  our  eyes,  let  us 
be  afhamed  of  thofe  fallies  of  impatience  which  we  fo  often  fuffer 
to  break  forth,  in  the  midft  of  profperity.  By  a  more  manly  tran- 
quillity and  felf-comm^nd,  let  us  difcover  to  the  world,  that,  as  men^ 
^nd  as  Chriftians,  we  have  learned  in  patience  to  pojfcfs  our  fouls ^ 

SER« 

•j-  Jer,  xil.  5^  §  Maith.  xi.  29* 


S  E  Pv  M  O  N     XLIL 

On  Moderation, 

»— — c£'-^-^--n—^-"^-^ 

PhILIPPIANS    IV.    5. 

Lei  your  moderation  he  known  unto  all  men, — — 

THE  prefent  flate  of  man  is  neither  doomed  to  conftant  mife- 
ry,  nor  defigned  for  complete  Iiappinefs.  It  is,  in  general,  z 
mixed  ftate,  ot  comfort  and  forrow,  ot  profperity  and  adverfity ; 
riCitber  brightened  by  uninterrupted  funfhine,  nor  overcaft  with 
perpetual  Oiade  ;  but  fubjecl  to  alternate  fucceflions  of  the  one  and 
the  other.  While  fuch  a  (late  forbids  defpair,  it  alfo  checks  prefump- 
tion.  It  is  equ?.lly  adverfe  to  defpondency  of  mind,  and  to  high  ele-. 
vation  of  fpirits.  The  temper  which  befl:  fuits  it,  is  exprefled  in  the 
text  by  moderation;  which,  as  the  habitual  tenor  of  the  foul,  the  apoA 
tie  exhorts  us  to  difcoverin  our  whole  condud  ;  let  it  be  known  unto 
cdl  men.  This  virtue  confifts  in  the  equal  balance  of  the  foul.  It 
imports  fuch  proper  government  of  our  pafTions  and  pleafures,  as 
jfliall  prevent  us  from  running  into  extremes  of  any  kind  ;  and 
ihall  produce  a  calm  and  temperate  frame  of  mind.  It  chiefly  re- 
fpe6lsour  conduft  in  that  ftate,  which  comes  under  the  defcription 
of  eafe  or  profperity.  Patience,  of  which  I  treated  in  the  pre- 
ceding difcourfe,  direds  the  proper  regulation  of  the  mind,  un- 
der the  difagreeable  incidents  of  life.  Moderation  determines  the 
bounds  within  which  it  fhould  remain,  when  circumftances  are  agree- 
able or  promifing.  What  I  now  purpofe  is,  to  point  out  fome  of 
the  chief  inftances  in  which  Moderation  ought  to  take  place,  and 
to  ihew  the  importance  of  preferving  it. 

I,  Moderation  in  our  wifhes.  The  active  mind  of  man  fel- 
dom  or  ne\*er  refts  fatisfied  with  its  prefent  condition,  how  prof- 
perous  foever.  Originally  formed  for  a  wider  range  of  objeas^ 
tor  a  higher  {inhere  of  ej^joyments,  it  finds  irfelf,  in  every  fituation 

of 


On  Moderation,  247 

of  fortune,  ftraitened  and  confined.  Senfible  of  deficiency  in  its 
ftate,  it  is  ever  fending  forth  the  fond  defire,  the  afpiring  wifh, 
after  fomething  beyond  what  is  enjoyed  at  prefent.  Hence,  that 
refllefsnefs  which  prevails  fo  generally  among  mankind.  Hence, 
that  difguft  of  pleafures  which  they  have  tried ;  that  pafiion  for 
novelty  ;  that  ambition  of  rifing  to  fome  degree  of  eminence  or 
felicity,  of  which  they  have  formed  to  themlelves  anindiflinclidea. 
All  which  may  be  confidered  as  indications  of  a  certain  native,  ori- 
ginal  greatnefsin  the  human  foul,  fwelling  beyond  the  limits  of  its 
prefent  condition  ;  and  pointing  at  the  higher  objeds  for  which  it 
was  made.  Happy,  if  thefe  latent  remains  of  our  primitive  ftate 
ferved  to  dired  our  wilhes  towards  their  proper  deftination,  and  to 
lead  us  into  the  path  of  true  blifs ! 

But  in  this  dark  and  bewildered  flate,  the  afpiring  tendency  of 
our  nature  untortunately  takes  an  oppofite  direction,  and  feeds  a 
very  mifplaced  ambition.  The  flattering  appearances  which  here 
prefent  themfelves  to  fenfe ;  the  diftindlions  which  fortune  confers; 
the  advantages  and  pleafures  which  we  imagine  the  world  to  be 
capable  of  beflowing,  fill  up  the  ultimate  wifh  of  moft  men.  Thefe 
are  the  objeds  which  engrofs  their  folitary  mufings,  snd  ftimulate 
their  a6live  labours  ;  which  warm  the  bread  of  the  young,  animate 
the  induftry  of  the  middle  aged,  and  often  keep  alive  the  pafTions 
of  the  old,  until  the  very  clofe  of  life.  Afluredly,  there  is  nothing 
unlawful  in  our  wifliing  to  be  freed  from  whatever  isdifagreeable, 
and  to  obtain  a  fuller  enjoyment  of  the  comforts  of  life.  But 
when  thefe  wifhes  are  not  tempered  by  reafon,  they  are  in  dan- 
ger of  precipitating  us  into  much  extravagance  and  folly.  Defines 
and  wifiies  are  the  firft  fprings  of  adion.  When  they  become  ex- 
orbitant, the  whole  charader  is  likely  to  be  tainted.  If  we  fuf- 
fer  our  fancy  to  create  to  itfelf  worlds  ot  ideal  happinefs  ;  if  we 
feed  our  imagination  with  plans  of  opulence  and  fplendour  far 
beyond  our  rank  ;  if  we  fix  to  our  wiflies  certain  ftages  of  high 
advancement,  or  certain  degrees  of  uncommon  reputation  or  dif. 
tinftlon,  as  the  fole  (lations  of  felicity  ;  the  afTured  confequence 
vv'ill  be,  that  we  fiiall  become  unhappy  in  our  prefent  ftate ;  unfit 
for  adling  tiie  parr,  and  difcharging  the  duties  that  belong  to  it ; 
we  fhall  difcompofe  the  peace  and  order  of  our  minds,  and  fo- 
nient  many  hurtful  pafiions.  Here,  then^  let  Moderation  begin  its 

reign; 


24B  On  Mode  rat  tort . 

reign ;  by  bringing  within  reafonable  bounds  the  wifhes  that  we 
form.  As  foon  as  they  become  extravagant,  let  us  check  them 
by  proper  reflexions  on  the  fallacious  nature  of  thofe  objedts,  which 
the  world  hangs  out  to  allure  defire. 

You  have  ftrayed,  my  friends,  from  the  road  which  conduces 
to  felicity  ;  you  have  diflionored  the  native  dignity  of  your  fouls, 
in  allowing  your  wifhes  to  terminate  on  nothing  higher  thaa 
worldly  ideas  of  greatnefs  or  happinefs.  Your  imagination  roves 
in  a  land  of  fliadows,  Unreal  forms  deceive  you.  It  is  no  more 
than  a  phantom,  an  illufion  of  happinefs,  which  attrads  your  fond 
admiration  ;  nay,  an  illufion  of  happinefs  which  often  conceals 
much  real  miiery.  Do  you  imagine,  that  all  are  happy,  who 
have  attained  to  thofe  fummits  of  diftinftion,  towards  which  your 
wiflies  afpire?  Alas!  how  frequently  has  experience  fliewed,  that 
where  rofes  were  fuppofed  to  bloom,  nothing  but  briars  and 
thorns  grew  ?  Reputation,  beauty,  riches,  grandeur,  nay,  roy- 
alty itfelf,  would,  many  a  time,  have  been  gladly  exchanged  by 
the  pofTefibrs,  for  that  more  quiet  and  humble  ftation,  with  which 
you  are  now  difiatisfied.  With  all  that  is  fplendid  and  ihining 
in  the  world,  it  is  decreed  that  there  ihould  mix  many  deep  fhades 
of  woe.  On  the  elevated  fituations  of  fortune,  the  great  calami- 
ties of  life  chiefly  fall.  There  the  ftonn  fpends  its  violence,  and 
there  the  thunder  breaks ;  while  fafe  and  unhurt,  the  inhabitant 

of  the  vale  remains  below. Retreat,  then,  from   thofe  vaia 

and  pernicious  excurfions  of  extravagant  defire.  Satisfy  your^ 
felves  with  what  is  rational  and  attainable.  Train  your  minds 
to  moderate  views  of  human  life,  and  human  happinefs.  Remem" 
ber,  and  admire,  the  wifdom  of  Augur's  wifli.  Remove  far  from 
me  vanily  and  lies.  Give  jne  neither  poverty  nor  riches.  Feed  me 
'with  fjod  convenient  for  tne  :  Left  1  he  fully  and  deny  thee,  and  fay, 
who  is  the  Lord?  or  left  1  be  poor,  andfteal,  and  take  the  name  of 
my  God  in  vain.* Let  me  recommend, 

II.  Moderation  in  our  purfuits.  Wiflies  and  defires  reft 
within.  If  immoderate  and  improper,  though  they  taint  the  heart, 
yet  fociety  may  not  be  affeded  by  them.  The  obfcure  and  harm- 
lefs  individual  may  indulge  his  dreams,  without  difturbing  the 
public  peace.     But  when  the  adive  purfuits  in  which  we  engage, 

rife 
*  Prov,  XXX,  H,  a. 


On  Moderation.  249 

Tjfe  beyond  moderation,  they  fill  the  world  with  great  diforders ; 
often  with  flagrant  crimes.  This  admonition  chiefly  refpects  the 
ambitious  men  of  the  world.  I  lay  not,  that  all  ambition  is  to 
be  condemned  ;  or  that  high  purfuits  ought,  on  every  occafion,  to 
be  checked.  Some  men  are  formed  by  nature,  for  rifing  into  con- 
fpicuous  ftations  of  life.  In  following  the  impulfe  of  their  minds, 
and  properly  exerting  the  talents  with  which  God  has  blelTed  them, 
there  is  room  for  ambition  to  a6l  in  a  laudable  fphere,  and  to  be- 
come the  inftrument  of  much  public  good.  But  this  may  fafely 
be  pronounced,  that  the  bulk  of  men  are  ready  to  over-rate  their 
own  abilities,  and  to  imagine  themfelves  equal  to  higher  things 
than  they  were  ever  defigned  for  by  nature.  Be  fober,  there- 
fore, in  fixing  your  aims,  and  planning  your  deftined  purfuits. 
Beware  of  being  led  afide  from  the  plain  path  of  found  and  mode- 
rate condu(^,  by  thofe  falfe  lights  which  felf-flattery  is  always 
ready  to  hang  out.  By  aiming  at  a  mark  too  high,  you  may  fall 
fliort  of  what  it  was  within  your  power  to  have  reached.  Inflead 
of  attaining  to  eminence,  you  may  expofe  yourfelves  to  derilion  j 
nay,  may  bring  upon  your  heads  manifold  difaflers.  J  fiy  to  e- 
very  man  that  is  amori.g  you,  not  to  think  of  himjdf  more  highly  than 
hs  ought  to  think  f  hut  to  think  fober  ly.* 

Whatever  your  aims  be,  there  is  one  exercife  of  modera- 
tion which  muft  be  enjoined  to  thofe  of  the  greateft  abilities,  as 
well  as  to  others  ;  that  is,  never  to  tranfgrefs  the  bounds  of  mo- 
ral duty.  Amidft  the  warmth  of  purfuit,  accuftom  yourfelves  to 
fubmit  to  the  reftraints  vhich  religion  and  virtue,  which  propri- 
ety and  decency,  which  regard  to  reputation  and  charadler,  im- 
pofe.  Think  not  that  there  are  no  barriers  which  ought  to  flop 
your  progrefs.  It  is  from  a  violent  and  impetuous  fpirit  that  all 
the  evils  fpring,  which  are  fo  often  found  to  accompany  ambition. 
Hence,  in  private  life,  the  laws  of  truth  and  honor  are  violated. 
Hence,  in  public  contefts,  the  peace  and  v/elfare  of  nations  have 
been  fo  often  facrificed  to  the  ambitious  projeds  of  the  great. 
Tlie  man  of  moderation,  as  he  is  temperate  in  his  wifhes,  fo  in 
his  purfuits  he  is  regulated  by  virtue,  A  good  confcience  is  to 
him  more  valuable  than  any  fuccefs.  He  is  not  lo  much  bent 
©n  the  accomplifliment  of  any  defign,  as  to  take  a  difhonourable 

flep 
*  Rom*  xii.  3. 


2£o  On  Moderation, 

ftep  in  order  to  compafs  it.  He  can  have  patience.  He  can  broc^k 
difappointments.  He  can  yield  to  unfurniountable  obftacles;  and, 
by  gentle  and  gradual  progrefs,  is  more  Hkely  to  fucceed  in  the 
end,  than  others  are,  by  violence  and  irnpeiuonty.  In  his  high- 
eft:  enterprife,  he  wilhes  not  to  have  the  appearance  of  a  meteor, 
which  fires  the  atmofphere  ;  or,  of  a  comet,  which  aftonifhes  the 
public,  by  its  blazing,  eccentric  courfe  ;  but  rather  to  refemble 
thofe  ft:eady  luminaries  of  heaven,  which  advance  in  their  orbits, 
yN\i\\  a  lilent  and  regular  motion.  He  approves  himfelf  thereby  to 
the  virtuous,  the  wife,  and  difcerning ;  and,  by  a  temperate  and 
unexceptionable  condud,  efcapes  thofe  dangers  which  perfonsof  an 
oppofite  defcription  are  perpetually  ready  to  incur. 

HI.  Be  moderate  in  your  expedations.  When  your  flate  is 
flourifhing,  and  the  courfe  of  events  proceeds  according  to  your 
wifh,  fuffer  not  your  minds  to  be  vainly  lifted  up.  Flatter  not 
yourfelves  with  high  profpedsofthe  increafmg  favours  of  the  world> 
and  the  continuing  applaufe  of  men.  Say  not  within  your  hearts. 
My  mountain  JiandsJJrongy  and  fo all  never  he  moved.  1  fhall  never 
fee  adverfity.  To-morrow  Jim!/  be  as  this  day,  and  more  abundantly^ 
— You  are  betraying  yourfelves ;  you  are  laying  a  fure  founda- 
tion of  difappointment  and  mifery,  when  you  allow  your  fancy  to 
foar  to  fuch  lofty  pinnacles  of  confident  hope.  By  building  your 
houfe  in  this  airy  region,  you  are  preparing  for  yourfelves  a  great 
and  cruel  fall.  Your  truji  is  the  fpider^s  weh.  You  may  lean  on 
your  houfe  ;  but  it  fall  not  f  and.  Tou  may  hold  it  fa  fi  ;  but  it  f?  all 
not  indure.  For,  to  man  on  earth  it  was  never  granted,  to  gra- 
tify all  his  hopes;  or  to  prelerve  in  one  trad:  of  uninterrupted 
profperity,  Unpleafing  viciflitudes  never  fail  to  fucceed  thofe  that 
were  grateful.  The  fafljion  of  the  -world,  how  gay  or  fmiling  fo- 
ever,  pajfdh,  and  often  palTeth  fuddenly,  away. 

By  want  of  moderation  in  our  hopes,  we  not  only  increafe  de- 
iedion  when  difappointment  comes,  but  we  accelerate  diiappoint- 
raent ;  we  bring  forward,  with  greater  fpeed  difagreeable  changes 
in  our  ftate.  For  the  natural  confequence  of  prefumptuous  expec- 
tation, is  rafhnefs  in  condud.  He  who  indulges  confident  fecuri- 
ty,  of  courfe  neglects  due  precautions  ag;iinft  the  dangers  that 
threaten  him;  and  his  fall  will  be  forefeen,  and  prcdis^ed.     He 

not  only  expofes  himfelf  unguarded  to  dangers,  but  he  mukiplie? 

them 


On  Moderation.  251 

lliem  ngainft  himfflf.     By  prefumption  and  Vanir)^  he  either  pro- 
vokes enmity,  or  incurs  contempt. 

The  arrogant  mind,  and  the  proud  hope,  are  equally  contrary 
to  religion,  and  to  prudence.     The  world  cannot  bear  luch  a  fpl- 
rit ;  and  Providence  feldom  fails  to  check  it.     The  Almighty  be- 
Iiolds  with  difpleafure  thofe  who,  intoxicated  with  profperity,  for- 
get their  dependence  on  that  Supreme  Power  which  raifed  them  up. 
His  awful  government  of  the  world,  has  been  in  nothing  more 
confpicuous  than  in  bringing  /ow  the  lofty  looks  of  man,  andfcatter- 
ing  the  proud  in  the  imagination  of  their  minds. -^Is  not  this  the  great 
Babylon y  which  1  have  built  by  the  might  of  my  power,  and /or  the 
honour  of  my  Majefiy  .<?*     Thus  exclaimed  the  prefumptuous  mo- 
narch, in  the  pride  of  his  heart.     Brut,  lo !   when  the  word  was 
yet  in  his  mouth,  the  vifitation  from  heaven  came,  and  the  voice  was 
heard  ;  0,  Nebuchadnezzar  /  to  thee  it  isfpoken  ;  thy  kingdom  is  de^ 
parted  fr 0771  thee, — He  that  exalt eth  himfelf]J}mllbe  humbled  ;  and  he 
that  humbletb  himfelf  Jhall  be  exalted. f     A  temperate  fpirit,  and  mo- 
derate expedlations,  are  the  beft  fafeguard  of  the  mind  in  this  un- 
certain and  changing  (late.     They  enable  us  to  pafs  through  life 
with  moft  comfort.     When  we  rife  in  the  world,  they  contribute 
to  our  elevation  5  and  if  we  mud  fall,  they  render  our  fall  the 
lighter. 

IV.  Moderation  in  our  pleafures  is  an  important  exercife  of 
the  virtue  which  we  are  now  confidering.  It  is  an  invariable  law 
of  our  prefent  condition,  that  every  pleafure  which  is  purfued  to 
excels,  converts  itfelf  into  poifon.  What  was  intended  for  the  cor- 
dial and  refreflimenc  of  human  life,  through  want  of  moderation, 
we  turn  to  its  bane.  In  all  the  pleafures  of  {tvSc,  it  is  apparent, 
that  only  when  indulged  within  certain  limits,  they  confer  latis- 
fadlion.  No  fooner  do  we  pafs  the  line  which  temperance  has 
drawn,  than  pernicious  eftedts  come  forward,  and  diow  themfelves. 
Could  I  lay  open  to  your  view  the  monuments  of  death,  they 
would  read  a  ledture  in  favour  of  moderation,  much  more  power- 
ful than  any  that  the  moft  eloquent  preacher  can  give.  You  would 
behold  the  graves  peopled  with  the  victims  of  inie.Dperance.  You 
would  behold  thofe  chambers  of  darknefs  hung  round,  on  every 
iide^  with  the  trophies  of  luxury,  drunkennefs,  and  lenfuality.    ^o 

G  g  numerous 

*  Daniel  iv.  30,  f  ^^^^^  xiv.  U' 


•252  On  Moderation. 

nuuierous  would  yon  find  thofe  martyrs  of  iniquity,  that  it  may 
fafely  be  aiTerted,  where  war  or  peftilence  have  fiain  their  thou= 
fands,  intemperate  pleafure  has  (lain  its  ten  thoufands. 

While  the  want  of  moderation  in  pleafure  brings  men  to  an 
untimely  grave,  at  the  fame  time,  until  they  arrive  there,  it  pur- 
fues  and  afflidts  them  with  evils  innumerable.     7  o  what  caufe,  fo 
much  as  to  this,  are  owing,  faded  youth,   and  premature  old  age  ; 
an  enervated  body,  and  an  enfeebled  mind  ;  together  with  all  that 
long  train  of  difeafes,  which  the  indulgence  of  appetite  and  fenfc 
have  introduced  into  the  v/orld?  Health,  cheerfulnefs,  and  vigor, 
are  knov;n  to  be  the  offspring  of  temperance.     The  man  of  mode- 
ration brings  to  all  the  natural  and  innocent  pleafures  of  life,  that 
found,  uncorrupted  relifii,  which  gives  him  a  much  fuller  enjoy- 
ment of  them,  than  the  palled  and  vitiated  appetite  of  the  voluptu- 
ary allows  him  to  know.     He  culls  the  flower  of  every  allowable 
gratification,  without  dwelling  upon  it  until  the  flavour  be  loft,    He 
tafles  thefweet  of  every  pleafure,  without  purfuing  it  till  the  bitter 
dregs  rife.     Whereas  the  man  of  oppofite  charader  dips  fo  decp^ 
that  he  never  fails  to  ftir  an  impure  and  noxious  fediment,  which 
lies  at  the  bottom  of  the  cup. — In  the  pleafures,  bcfides,  which  are 
regulated  by  moderation,  there  is  always  that  dignity  which  goes 
along  with  innocence.    No  man  needs  to  be  afliamed  of  them.  They 
are  confiftent  with  honor  ;  with  the  favour  of  God,  and  of  man.  But 
the  fenfualift,  who  difdains  all  reftraint  in  his  pleafures,  is  odious 
in  the  public  eye.  His  vices  become  grofs;  his  character,  contemp- 
tible ;  and  he  ends  in  being  a  burden  both  to  himfelf  and  to  foci- 
ety.     Let  me  exhort  you,  once  more, 

V,  To  moderation  in  all  your  paffions.  This  exercife  of  the 
virtue  is  the  more  requifite,  becaufe  there  is  no  pafijon  in  human 
nature  but  what  has,  of  itfelf,  a  tendency  to  run  into  excefs.  For 
all  paflion  implies  a  violent  emotion  of  mind.  Of  courfe,  it  is  apt 
to  derange  the  regular  courfe  of  our  ideas  ;  and  to  produce  ccn- 
fufion  wiihin.  Nothing,  at  the  fame  time,  is  more  feducing  thau 
pallion.  During  the  time  when  it  grows  and  fwells,  it  conftant- 
ly  judifies,  to  our  apprehenfion,  the  tumult  which  it  creates,  by 
means  of  a  thoufand  falfe  arguments  which  it  forms,  and  brings 
to  its  aid. — Of  fome  paffions,  fuch  as  anger  and  refentment,  the 
excffs  \i  fo  obvioufly  dangerous,  as  loudly  to  call  for  moderation. 

He 


,  On  Moderaihn.  253 

^e  who  gives  himfelf  up  to  the  impetuofity  of  fuch  pafnons,  with- 
out reftraint,  is  univerfally  condemned  by  the  world  ;  and  hardly 
accounted  a  man  of  found  mind.  But,  what  is  lefs  apt  to  be  attend- 
ed  to,  fome  even  of  thofe  palTions  which  are  reckoned  innocent; 
or  whofe  tendency  to  diforder  and  evil  is  not  apparent,  Hand,  ne- 
verthelefs,  in  need  of  moderation  and  reftraint,  as  well  ns  others. 
For,  fuch  is  the  feeblenefs  of  our  nature,  that  every  pafTion  which 
has  for  its  objed:  any  worldly  good,  is  in  hazard  of  attaching  us 
too  ftrongly,  and  of  tranfporting  us  beyond  the  bounds  of  realbn« 
If  allowed  to  acquire  the  full  and  unreftrained  dominion  of  the 
heart,  it  is  fnfficient,  in  various  fituations,  to  render  us  mifcrable; 
and  almoft  in  every  fituation,  by  its  ingroifing  power,  to  render 
us  negligent  of  duties  which,  as  men  or  Chriftians^  we  are  bound 
to  perform. 

Of  the  infidious  growth  of  pafTion,  therefore,  we  have  great 
reafon  to  beware.  We  ought  always  to  have  at  hand  confidera- 
tions,  which  may  affift  us  in  tempering  its  warmth,  and  in  regain- 
ing pofleflion  of  our  fouls.  Let  us  be  perfuaded,  that  moments 
of  paflion  are  always  moments  of  delufion ;  that  nothin-g  truly  is 
what  it  then  feems  to  be  j  that  all  the  opinions  which  we  then 
form,  are  erroneous;  and  all  the  judgments  which  we  pafs,  are 
extravagant.  Let  moderation  accuftom  us  to  wait  until  the  fumes 
of  pafTion  be  fpent ;  until  the  mift  which  it  has  raifed  begin  to  be 
dilTipated.  We  fhall  then  be  able  to  fee  where  truth  and  rio-bc 
lie  ;  and  reafon  fliall,  by  degrees,  refume  the  afcendant.  On  no 
occafion  let  us  imagine,  that  ftrength  of  mind  is  fhown  by  violence 
of  paflion.  This  is  not  the  ftrength  of  men,  but  the  impetuofity 
of  children.  It  is  the  ftrength  of  one  who  is  in  the  delirium  of 
a  fever^  or  under  the  difeafe  of  madnels.  The  ftrencrth  of  fuch 
a  perlon  is  indeed  increafed.  But  it  is  an  unnatural  ftrength  ;  vvhich 
being  under  no  proper  guidance,  is  directed  towards  objeds  that 
occafion  his  deftruftion.  True  ftrength  of  mind  is  Ihown  in  go- 
verning and  refifting  paffion,  not  in  giving  it  fcope,  in  reftraining 
the  wild  beaft  within ;  and  aaing  on  the  moft  trying  occafions, 
according  to  the  dilates  of  confcience,  and  temperate  reafon. 

Thus  1  have  pointed  out,  in  feveral  inftances,  how  moderation 
ought  to  be  difplayed.  Moderation  in  our  wiflies;  moderation 
m  ourpurfuits  5  moderation  in  our  hopes ;  moderation  in  our  plea- 

fures ; 


#^^4  ^«  Moderation, 

fures  ;  moderation  in  our  paflions.  It  is  a  principle  which  fliould 
habitually  influence  our  condud,  and  form  the  reigning  tempera- 
ture oi"  the  foul. 

The  great  motive  to  this  virtue  is  fuggefted  by  the  words  im- 
mediately following  the  text;  the  Lord  is  at  hand.  The  judge  is 
coming,  who  is  to  clofe  this  temporary  fcene  of  things,  and  to  in- 
troduce a  higher  flate  of  exiftencc.  The  day  is  at  hand,  which 
will  place  the  great  concerns  of  men  in  a  point  of  view  very  dif- 
ferent from  that  in  which  they  are  at  prefent  beheld  ;  will  ftrip  the 
world  of  its  falfe  glory  ;  will  deted:  the  vanity  of  earthly  purfuits; 
and  dilclofe  objeds  which  have  the  proper  title  to  interefta  rational 
mind.  Objeils  acquire  power  to  engage  our  paflions,  only  in  pro. 
portion  as  they  are  conceived  to  be  great.  But  great,  or  little,  are 
no  more  than  terras  of  comparifon.  Thofe  things  which  appear 
great  to  one  who  knows  nothing  greater,  will  fink  into  a  diminu- 
tive fize,  when  he  becomes  acquainted  with  objedls  of  a  higer  na. 
ture.  Were  it  oftener  in  our  thoughts,  that  the  Lord  is  at  hand, 
none  of  thofe  things  which  now  difcompofe  and  agitate  worldly 
men,  would  appear  of  fufHcient  magnitude  to  raife  commotion  in 
our  breafts.  Enlarged  views  of  the  future  deftination  of  man,  and 
of  the  place  which  he  may  hope  to  polTefs  in  an  eternal  world^  na- 
turally give  birth  to  moderation  of  mind.  They  tend  to  cool  all 
mifplaced  ardour  about  the  advantages  of  this  ftate ;  and  to  pro- 
duce that  calm  and  temperate  frame  of  fpirit,  which  becomes  men 
and  Chrirtians.  They  give  no  ground  for  entire  difregard  of 
earthly  concerns.  While  we  are  men,  we  muft  feel  and  aft  as  fuch. 
But  they  afford  a  good  reafon  why  they  who  believe  the  Lord  to  hs 
at  hand,  fhould  let  their  moderation  appear,  and  k  known  unto  ail 

men, 

SER» 


Z    ^55    1 

SERMON      XLIIL 

On  the  Jov,  and  the  Bitterness  of  the  Heart, 

— — i^-^--j!j-^-^»3jE-n . 

Proverbs  xiv.  lo. 

The  heart  knovueth  his  own  hitternefs,  and  a  Jlranger  doth  not  lnter->. 

meddle  with  his  joy^ 

IT  is  well  known,  tl-iat  men  have  always  been  much  inclined  to 
place  their  happinefs  in  the  advantages  of  fortune,  and  the  didinc- 
tions  of  rank.  Hence  thefe  have  been  purfued  by  the  multitude 
with  fuch  avidity,  that  every  principle  of  honour,  probity,  and 
virtue,  have  been  facrificed  to  the  attainment  of  them.  At  the 
fame  time,  many  circumftances  might  have  convinced  men,  that 
fuppofmg  them  to  be  fuccefsful  in  the  purfuit,  it  by  no  means  fol- 
lowed,  that  happinefs  was  to  be  the  reward.  For  if  happinefs 
be,  in  truth,  elTentialiy  conneded  with  fplendid  fortune,  or  exalt- 
ed rank,  how  comes  it  to  pafs,  that  many  in  the  inferior  ftations  of 
life,  vifibly  fpend  their  days  with  more  comfort  than  they  who  oc- 
cupy the  higher  departments  of  the  world  ?  Why  does  the  beg- 
gar fmg,  while  the  king  is  fad  >  A  fmall  meafure  of  refledion  on 
our  nature  might  fatisfy  us,  that  there  are  other  principles  of  hap. 
pinefs  or  mifery,  too  often  overlooked  by  the  world,  which  im- 
mediately afFea  the  heart,  and  operate  there  with  greater  force 
and  power,  than  any  circumftances  of  rank  or  fortune.  This  is 
the  obfervation  of  the  wife  man  in  the  text ;  and  what  I  now  pur. 
pofe  to  illuftrate,  I  (hall  take  a  view  of  the  chief  fources  of  that 
bitternefs  which  the  heart  knoweth,  and  of  thatyoy  with  which  ajlran- 
ger  doth  not  intermeddle;  and  then  fliall  point  out  the  proper  im- 
provements  to  be  made  of  the  fubje«2:. 

If  we  inquire  carefully  into  the  fources  of  the  joy  or  bitternefs 
of  the  heart,  we  fhall  find,  that  they  are  chiefly  two ;  that  they 
arife  either  from  a  man's  own  mind  and  temper ;  or,  from  th& 

conne(5tiou 


^5^  ^^  '^^  J^y^ 

<:onne(^ion  in  which  he  (lands  with  fome  of  his  fellow-creatures. 
In  other  words,  the  circumftances  whieh  moft  efientially  affed  e- 
very  man's  happinefs  are,  his  perfonal  charadler,  and  his  fecial 
feelings. 

I.  Every  man's  own  mind  and  temper  is,  necefTarily,  to  him- 
felf,  a  fource  of  much  inward  joy  or  bitternefs.  For  every  man, 
if  we  may  be  allowed  the  expreflion,  is  more  conneded  with  him- 
felf,  than  with  any  external  objedt.  He  is  conftantly  a  companion 
tohimfelf  in  his  own  thoughts;  and  what  he  meets  with  there, 
muft,  of  all  things,  contribute  moft  to  his  happinefs  or  his  difquiet. 
Whatever  his  condition  in  the  world  be,  whether  high  or  low,  if 
he  find  no  caufe  to  upbraid  himfelf  for  his  behaviour :  if  he  be 
fatisfied  that  his  condudl  proceeds  upon  a  rational  plan  ;  if,  amidft 
the  failings  incident  to  humanity,  his  confcience  be,  in  the  main, 
free  from  reproach,  and  his  mind  undifturbed  by  any  difrnal  pre- 
fages  of  futurity  ;  the  foundation  is  laid  for  a  placid  and  agreeable 
tenor  of  life.  If  to  this  you  add  a  calm  and  cheerful  temper,  not 
eafily  fretted  or  difturbed,  not  fubjed:  to  envy,  nor  prone  to  vio- 
lent pafiTion,  much  of  that  joy  will  be  produced,  which  it  is  faid  in 
the  text,  a  Jlranger  intermeddleth  not  with.  For  this  is  an  intrinfic 
joy,  independent  of  all  foreign  caufes.  Tke  upright  man,  as  it  is 
written,  is  fatisfied  from  himfelf.  Undifturbed  by  the  vexations 
of  folly,  or  the  remorfe  of  guilt,  his  nights  will  be  peaceful,  and 
his  days  ferene.  His  mind  is  a  kingdom  to  itfelf.  A  good  con- 
fcience, and  a  good  temper,  prepare,  even  in  the  midft  of  poverty 
a  continual  feafi. 

But  how  fadly  will  the  fcene  be  reverfed,  if  the  firft  thoughts, 
which  occur  to  a  man  concerning  hmfelf,  fliall  be  of  a  gloomy  and 
threatening  kind  ;  if  his  temper,  inftead  of  calmnels  and  felf-en- 
joyment,  fliall  yield  him  nothing  but  difquiet  and  painful  agitation  ? 
In  any  i-ituation  of  fortune,  is  it  poflible  for  him  to  be  happy, 
whofe  mind  is  in  this  troubled  ftate?  The  fpir it  of  a  man -will  J uf  urn 
kis  infirmitiei ;  hut  a  wounded fpirit,  who  can  bear  ?  Vigour  of  mind, 
may  enable  a  man  tofuftain  many  fliocks  of  adverfity.  In  his  fpi- 
rit, as  long  as  it  is  found,  he  can  find  a  refource,  vvben  other  aux- 
iliaries fail.  But  if  that  which  fliould  (uftain  him  be  enfeebled  and 
broken  ;  if  that  to  which  he  has  refource  for  the  cure  of  other  for- 
rows,  become  itfelf  the  wounded  part  j  to  what  quarter  can  he 
turn  for  relief?  The 


and  the  Bitternefs  of  the  Heart.  257 

The  wounds  which  the  fpirit  fuffers  are  owing  chiefly  to  three 
caufes ;  to  folly,  to  paflion,  or  to  guilt.  They  frequently  origi- 
nate from  folly  ;  that  is,  from  vain,  and  improper  purfuits,  whicli^ 
though  not  directly  criminal,  are  wnfuitable  to  a  man's  age,  cha- 
rafter,  or  condition,  in  the  world.  In  confequence  of  thefe,  he 
beholds  himfetf  degraded  and  expofed ;  and  fufFers  the  pains  of 
many  a  mortifying  reflexion,  and  many  a  bumbling  comparifon  of 
himfelf  with  others.  The  diftrefs  occafioned  by  a  fenfe  of  folly,  is 
aggravated  by  any  violent  paflion  being  allowed  to  take  pofieliion 
of  the  heart.  Even  though  it  be  of  the  clafs  of  thofe  which 
are  reckoned  innocent,  yet,  if  it  have  entirely  fiezed  and  overpow- 
ered a  man,  it  deftroys  his  tranquillity,  and  brings  his  mind  into 
a  perturbed  fl ate.  But  if  it  be  a  paflion  of  the  black  and  vicious  kirfcd;, 
it  is  fufficient  to  blaft  the  moft  flourifhing  condition,  and  to  poifoo 
all  his  joys.  If  to  thofe  wounds  inflidled  by  folly,  or  by  paflion, 
you  add  the  wound  of  guilt,  the  remorfe  and  fear  produced  by 
criminal  deeds,  you  fill  up  the  meafure  of  pain  and  bitternefs  of 
heart.  Often  have  the  terrors  of  confcience  occafioned  inward 
paroxyfms,  or  violent  agitations  of  mind.  A  dark  and  threaten- 
ing cloud  leems,  to  the  confcious  finner,  to  be  hanging  over  his 
head.  He  who  believes  himfelf  deipifed,  or  hated,  by  men,  and 
who  dreads,  at  the  fame  time,  an  avenging  God,  can  derive  lit- 
tle pleafare  from  the  external  comforts  of  life.  The  bitternefs  of 
his  heart  infufes  itfelf  into  every  draught  wiiich  pleaPjre  offers  to 
his  lips. 

The  external  misfortuue  of  life,  difappointments,  poverty, 
and  ficknefs,  are  nothing  in  comparifon  of  thofe  inward  diflrefs- 
cs  of  mind,  occafioned  by  folly,  by  palfion,  and  by  guiit.  They 
may  indeed  prevail  in  different  degrees,  according  as  one  or 
other  of  thofe  principles  of  bittemeh  is  predominant.  But  they  are 
feldom  parted  far  afunder  from  one  another  ;  and  when,  as  it  too 
often  happens,  all  the  three  are  complicated,  they  complete  the 
mifery  of  man.  The  diforders  of  the  mind,  having  then  arifen 
to  their  height,  becomes  of  all  things  the  moft  dreadful.  The 
fliame  of  folly,  the  violence  of  paflion,  and  the  remorle  of  guilt, 
ading  in  conjunclion,  have  too  frequently  driven  men  10  the  laft 
and  abhorred  refuge,  of  feeking  relief  in  death  from  a  life  too  eai« 
tittered  to  be  any  longer  endured.     I  proceed  to  confider, 

II. 


^58  Cn  the  Joy, 

II.  Other  troubles,  and  other  joys  of  the  heart,  arifing  from 
fources  different  from  thofe  that  I  have  now  defcribed  ;  founded  in 
the  relation  or  connexions  which  we  have  with  others,  and  fpring- 
jng  from  the  feelings  which  thefe  occafion.  Such  caufes  of  forrow 
or  joy  are  of  an  external  narure.  Religion  does  not  teach,  that  all 
the  fources  of  inward  pleafui'e  or  pain  are  derived  from  our  tem- 
pers and  moral  behaviour.  Thefe  are  indeed  the  principal  fpring 
of  bitternefs  and  joy.  In  one  way  or  other,  they  affcd  all  the  plea- 
fures  and  pains  of  life  ;  but  they  include  not,  within  themfelves,  the 
whole  of  ihem.  Our  Creator  did  not  intend,  that  the  happinefs  of 
each  individual  Pnould  have  no  dependence  on  thofe  who  are  around 
him.  Having  conneded  us  in  fociety  by  many  ties,  it  is  his  de- 
cree, that  theie  ties  (liould  prove,  both  during  their  fubfiftence, 
and  in  their  dilTolution,  caufes  of  plcafure  or  pain,  immediately, 
and  often  deeply,  afFecling  the  human  heart,  P^Iy  doctrine,  there« 
fore,  is  not,  ih^iibe  bitternefs  which  the  hart  knoweth  as  its  own,  and 
the  joy  with  which  a  fir  anger  intermeddleth  not,  is  independent  of  e- 
very  thing  external.  What  I  alTert  is,  that  this  bitternefs,  and 
this  joy,  depend  much  more  on  other  caules,  than  on  riches  or 
poverty,  on  high  or  low  ftations  in  the  world ;  that,  equally  in 
the  conditions  of  elevated  fortune,  and  of  private  life,  the  moft 
material  circumftances  of  trouble  or  felicity,  next  to  the  ftate  of 
our  own  mind  and  temper,  are  the  fenfations  and  affections  which 
anfe  from  the  connedtions  we  have  with  others. 

In  order  to  make  this  appear,  let  us  fuppofe  a  man  in  any  rank 
or  condition  of  life,  happy  in  his  family  and  his  friends;  foothed 
by  the  cordial  intercourfe  of  kind  affections,  which  he  partakes 
with  them;  enjoying  the  comfort  of  doing  them  good  offices,  and 
receiving  in  return  their  fincereft  gratitude  ;  experiencing  no  jea- 
loufy  nor  envy,  no  difquiet  or  alienation  of  atfedion,  among  thefe 

with    whom   he   is  conncded  ; how  many,  and   how  copious 

fources  of  inward  joy  open  to  fuch  a  man  !  how  fmooih  is  the  te- 
nor of  a  life  that  proceeds  in  fuch  a  courfe  !  What  a  fmiling  a- 
fpea  does  the  love  of  parents  and  children,  of  brothers  and  lifters, 
of  friends  and  relations,  give  to  every  furrounding  objecl:,  and  e- 
very  returning  day!  With  what  a  luftre  docs  it  gild  even  the 
fmall  habitation  where  fuch  placid  intercourfe  dwells;  where  fuch 
fcenes  of  heart- felt  fatiefiK^ion  fucceed  uninterruptedly  to  one  an- 
other! ~  •  ^^'T 


and  the  Billcjnefs  of  the  Heart,  2^9 

But  let  us  fuppofe  this  joyful  intercourfe  to  be  broken  off,  in 
an  untimely  hour,  by  the  cruel  hand  of  the  laft  foe;  let  us  ima- 
gine the  family,  once  fo  happy  among  themfelves,  to  behold  the 
parent,  the  child,  or  the  fpoufe,  to  whom  their  hearts  were  at- 
tached by  the  tendereft  ties,  ftretched  on  the  cold  bed  of  death  ; 
then,  what  bitternefs  does  the  heart  know  !  This,  in  the  Uri^leffc 
fenfe,  is  its  own  bitternefs  ;  from  which  it  is  not  in  the  power  of  a- 
ny  external  circumftance  whatever  to  afford  it  relief.  Amidft  thofe 
piercing  griefs  of  the  heart,  all  ranks  of  life  are  levelled  ;  all  di- 
flind:ions  of  fortune  are  forgotten.  Unavailing  are  the  trophies  of 
iplendid  woe,  with  which  riches  deck  the  fatal  couch,  to  give 
the  lead  comfort  to  the  mourner.  The  prince,  and  the  peaianr, 
then  equally  feel  their  own  bitternefs.  Dwelling  on  the  melan- 
choly remembrance  of  joys  that  are  paft  and  gone,  the  one  for- 
gets his  poverty  ;  the  other  defpifes  the  gilded  trappings  of  his 
ftate.  Both^  in  that  fad  hour,  are  fully  fenfible,  that  on  the  fa- 
vours of  fortune  it  depends  not  to  make  man  happy  in  this  world. 

But  it  is  not  only  the  death  of  friends,  which,  in  the  midft  of  a 
feemingly  profperous  ftate,  is  able  to  bring  diftrefs  home  to  the 
heart.  From  various  failures  in  their  conduct  when  living,  arifes 
much  of  the  inward  uneafmefs  we  fufFer.  It  will,  in  general,  be 
found,  that  the  behaviour  of  thofe  among  whom  we  live  in  nenrcon^ 
nedion,  is,  next  to  perfonal  chara£ler  and  temper,  the  chief  fource, 
either  of  the  pleafures  or  of  the  difquietudes,  of  every  man's  life* 
As,  when  their  behaviour  is  cordial  and  fatisfa6lory,  it  is  of  all 
external  things  the  moft  foothing  to  the  mind  ;  fo,  on  the  other 
hand,  their  levity,  their  inattention,  or  occafional  harflmefs,  even 
though  it  proceed  to  no  decided  breach  of  friendfliip,  yet  rujffles 
and  frets  the  temper.  Social  life,  harraiTed  with  thofe  petty  vex- 
ation?, refembles  a  road  which  a  man  is  doomed  daily  to  travel ; 
but  finds  it  rugged,  ^nd  ftony,  and  painful  to  be  trod. 

Thk  cafe  becomes  much  v/orfe,  if  the  bafe  and  criminal  con- 
duct of  perfons  whom  v.e  have  once  loved,  diflblve  all  the  bonds 
of  amity,  and  iliow  that  our  confidence  has  been  abufed.  Then 
are  opened,   fome  of  the  deeped  fprings  of  bitternefs  in  the  human 

heart. Behold  the  heart  of  the  parent,  torn  by  the  unworthy 

behaviour  and  cruel  ingratitude  of  the  child,  whom  he  had  trained 
up  with  the  fondefl  hopes;  on  whom  he  had  laviflied  his  whole  af- 

H  h  fection 


l6o  On  the  yoy, 

fedtion  ;  and  for  whofe  Take  he  had  laboured  and  toiled,  through 
the  courfe  of  a  long  life.  Behold  the  endearments  of  the  conjugal 
liate,  changed  into  black  fufpicion,  and  miflruft  j  the  afFedionate 
fpoufe,  or  the  virtuous  hufband,  left  to  mourn,  with  a  broken 
heart,  the  infidelity  of  the  once-beloved  partner  of  their  life.  Be- 
hold the  unfufpeding  friend  betrayed,  in  the  hour  of  danger,  by 
the  friend  in  whom  he  trufted;  or,  in  the  midll  of  fevere  misfor- 
tune, meeting  nothing  but  cold  indifference,  perhaps  fcorn  and 
contempt,  where   he  had  expeded   to  find  the  kindeft  fympathy. 

Are  thefe,  let  me  afk,  uncommon  Icenes  in  the  world?  Are 

fuch  dirtrefTes  peculiar  to  any  rank  or  ftation  ?  Do  they  chiefly  be- 
fal  perfons  in  humble  life,  and  have  the  great  any  prerogative 
■which  affords  them  exemption  ?  When  the  heart  is  forely  wounded 
by  the  ingratitude  or  faithlefTnefs  of  thofe  on  whom  it  had  leaned 
with  the  whole  weight  of  aflfedlion,  where  fliall  it  turn  for  relief? 
Will  it  find  comfort  in  the  recollection  of  honours  and  titles,  or 

in  the  contemplation  of  furrounding  treafures? Talk  not  of 

the  honours  of  a  court.  Talk  not  of  the  wealth  of  the  eafl, 
Thefe,  in  the  hour  of  heart-bitternefs,  are  ipurned,  as  contemp- 
tible and  vile;  perhaps  curfed,  as  indirect  caufes  of  the  prefent 
difirefs.  The  dart  has  made  its  way  to  the  heart.  There,  there, 
it  is  fixedt  The  very  feat  of  feeling  is  affailed  ;  and  in  propor- 
tion to  the  fenlibility  of  the  fufferer^s  heart,  and  the  tendernefs 
of  his  affedions,  fuch,  unfortunately,  will  be  his  degree  of  an- 
guifb,  A  good  confcience,  and  hope  in  God,  may  indeed  bring 
him  confolation.  But  under  fuch  diflrefs  of  the  heart,  as  I  have 
defcribed,  fortune,  be  it  as  fiourifhing  as  you  will,  is  no  more 
than  an  empty  pageant.  It  is  a  feeble  reed,  which  affords  no 
fupport.  It  is  a  houfe  of  flraw,  which  is  fcattered  before  the 
wind. 

Thus  you  fee  this  doctrine  meeting  us  from  many  quarters, 
that  the  heart  knows  a  bitternefs  and  a  joy  of  its  own,  altogether 
diltind  from  the  uneafinefs  or  the  pleafure  that  is  produced  by 
the  circumftances  of  external  fortune  ;  arifing  either  from  perfon- 
al  charader,  and  the  flate  of  a  man's  own  mind;  or  from  the 
alfedions  excited  by  the  relations  in  v.hich  he  itands  to  others. 
This  joy,  and  this  bitternefs,  are,  each  of  them,  of  fo  much 
greater  confequence  than  any  diftindions  of  fortune,  that  bleffed 

with 


and  the  BlUernefs  of  the  Heart.  261 

with  the  former,  one  may  be  happy,  as  far  as  human  happinefs 
goes,  in  a  cottage  ;  and  affli^nied  with  the  latter,  he  muft  be  mife- 

rable  in  a  palace. Let  us  now  proceed  to  an   important  part 

of  the  fubje<5t,  the  practical  improvement  to  which  this  doftrine 
leads. 

First,   let  it  ferve  to  moderate  our  pafTion  for  riches,  and 
high  fituations   in  the  world.     It  is  well  known,  that  the  eager 
pnrfuit  of  thefe  is  the   chief  incentive  to  the  crimes  that  fill  the 
world.     Hence,  among  the  middle  and    lower   ranks    of  men, 
all  the  traud,  falfehood  and    treachery,  with  which  the  compe- 
tition  for  gain  infefts  fociety.     Hence,  in  the  higher  ftations  of 
the  world,  all  the  attrocious  crimes  flowing  from  ambition,  and  the 
love  of  power,  by  which^jthe  peace  of  mankind  has  fo  often  been 
broken,  and  the  earth  ftained  with  blood.    Had  thefe  coveted  ad- 
vantages the  power,  when  obtained,  of  enfuring  joy  to  the  heart, 
and  rendering  it  a  ftranger  to  bitternefs,  fome  apology  might  be 
offered  for  the  violence  to  which  they  have  given  occafion.     The 
price  might  be  fuppofed  worthy  of  being  acquired  at  a  high  ex- 
pence,  when  fo  much  depended  on  the  attainment.     But  I  have 
fhown,  I  hope  with  fatisfa^tory  evidence,  that  the  contrary  is  the 
truth.     I  fay  not,  that  the  advantages  of  fortune  deferve  no  re- 
gard from  a  wife  or  a  good  man.     Poverty  is  always  diftreffmg. 
Opulence  and  rank  are  both  attended  with  many  comforts,  and 
may  be  rendered  fubfervient  to  the  moft  valuable  purpofes.     But 
what  I  fay  is,  that  it  is  a  great  error  to  rate  them  beyond  their 
juft  value.     Secondary  advantages,  inferior  affirtances  to  felicity, 
they  are  ;  and  no  more.     They  rank  below  every  thing  that  im- 
mediately affedts  the  heart ;  and  that  is  a  native  fource  of  joy  or 
bitternefs  there.     If  a  man  be  either  unhappy  in  his  difpofitions, 
or  unhappy  in  all  his  connedions,  you  heap  upon  him  in  vain,  all 
the  treafures,  and  all  the  honours,  which  kings  can  beftow.     Di- 
ved thefe  things,  then,  of  that  falfe  glare  which  the  opinions  of 
the  multitude  throw  around  them.     Contemplate  them  with  a 
more  impartial  eye.     Purfue  them  with  lefs  eagernefs.  Above  all, 
never  facrifice   to   the  purfuit  any  degree  of  probity    or  moral 
worth,  of  candor  or  good  affedlion  ;  if  you  would  not  lay  a  foun- 
dation for  that  bitternels  of  heart,  which  none  of  the  goods  of 
fortune  can  either  compenfate  or  cure. 

Secondly, 


^62  On  the  Joy% 

Sfxondly,  Let  the  obfervations  which  have  been  made,  cor- 
red:  our  miftakes,  and  check  our  complaints,  concerning  a  fuppof- 
ed  promifcuous  dirtribution  of  hyppinefs  in  this  world.  The 
charge  of  injufiice,  which  fo  often,  on  this  account,  hath  been 
brought  againft  Providence,  refts  entirely  on  this  ground,  that 
the  happinefs  and  mifery  of  men  may  be  eftimated  by  the  degree 
of  their  external  profperity.  This  is  the  delufion  under  which 
the  multitude  have  always  laboured  ;  but  which  a  jufl:  confidera- 
tion  of  the  invifible  fprings  of  happinefs  that  affect  the  heart,  is 
fufficieiit  to  correct.  If  you  would  judge  whether  a  man  be  real- 
ly happ)^,  it  is  not  folely  to  his  houfes  and  his  lands,  to  his  equi- 
page and  his  retinue,  you  are  to  look.  Unlefs  you  could  fee 
farther,  and  difcern  what  joy,  or  v^'hat  bitternefs,  his  heart  feels, 
you  can  pronounce  nothing  concerning  him.  That  proud  and 
vicked  man,  whom  you  behold  furrounded  with  ftate  and  fplen- 
dor,  and  upon  whom  you  think  the  favours  of  Heaven  fo  impro- 
perly laviflied,  may  be  a  wretch,  pining  away  in  fecret,  with  a 
thoufand  griefs  unknown  to  the  world.  That  poor  man,  who 
appears  neglecled  and  overlooked,  may,  in  his  humble  ftation,  be 
partaking  of  all  the  moral,  and  all  the  focial  joys,  that  exhilerate 
the  heart ;  may  be  living  chearfu!,  contented,  and  happy.  Ceale, 
then,  to  muniuir  againft  difpenfations  of  Providence,  which  are, 
to  us,  fo  imperfedly  known.  Envy  not  the  profperity  of  finners. 
Judge  not  ot  the  real  condition  of  men,  from  what  floats  merely 
on  the  furface  of  their  ftate.     Let  us  rather, 

Thirdly,  Turn  our  attention  to  thofe  internal  fources  of  hap- 
pinefs or  mifery,  on  which  it  hath  been  fliown  that  fo  much  de- 
pends. As  far  as  the  bitternefs  or  joy  of  the  heart  arifes  from 
the  firft  of  thofe  great  fprings  which  I  affigned  to  it,  our  own 
condud  and  temper,  fo  far  our  happinefs  is  placed,  in  fome  mea- 
fure,  in  our  own  hands.  What  is  amifs  or  difordered  within,  in 
confequence  of  folly,  of  paffion,  or  guilt,  may  be  redified  by  due 
care,  under  the  afiiflance  of  divine  grace.  He  who  thereby  at- 
tains to  a  tranquil  and  compofed  ftate  of  heart,  free  from  ill-hu- 
mour and  difguft,  from  violent  pafTions,  and  from  vexing  re- 
rnorfe,  is  laying  a  foundation  for  enjoyment  of  himfelf,  much 
forer  and  broader,  than  if  he  were  amaffing  thcufands  to  in^ 
creafe  his  eftate. 

With 


and  the  Bltternefs  of  the  Heart »  263 

With  regard  to  the  o^her  fpriiig  of  joy  or  bitternefs  of  heart, 
arifing  froni  our  conneiflions  with  others,  here  indeed,  we  are 
more  dependent  on  things  not  within  our  power.  Thefe  connec- 
tions are  not  always  of  our  own  forming;  and  even  when  they 
have  been  formed  by  choice,  the  wifeft  are  hable  to  be  difappoint- 
ed  in  their  expe^lations.  Yet  here  too  it  will  be  found,  that  the 
proper  regulation  of  the  heart  is  of  the  utmoft  importance,  both 
for  improving  the  joys  which  our  fituation  affords,  and  for  miti- 
gating the  griefs  which  our  connexions  may  render  unavoidable. 
As  far  as  the  choice  of  friends  or  relatives  may  depend  on  onrfelves, 
let  their  virtue  and  worth  ever  diredi:  that  choice,  if  we  look  for 
any  lafting  felicity  from  it.  In  all  the  habits  and  attachments  of 
fecial  life,  after  they  are  formed,^let  it  be  our  ftuJy,  to  fulfil  pro- 
perly our  own  part.  iJet  nothing  be  wanting  on  our  ^Ade,  to 
nourifli  that  mutual  harmony  and  afFedionate  friendfliip  which,  in 
every  fituation  of  life,  as  has  been  fliown,  is  of  fo  great  confe- 
quence  to  our  peace  and  fatisfa(5lion.  It  is  not,  indeed,  in  our 
power  to  preferve  always  alive  thofe  friends,  in  whom  our  hearts 
delight.  It  is  often  not  in  our  power  to  prevent  the  ingratitude 
and  unworthy  behaviour  of  other  friends,  from  whom  we  once 
expelled  comfort.  But  under  thofe  aiflidling  incidents  of  life, 
much  may  be  done  by  proper  employment  of  the  thoughts,  and 
direction  of  the  aflfedions,  for  obtaining  relief.  To  a  purified  and 
well-regulated  heart,  reafon  and  religion  can  bring  many  aids  for 
healing  its  wounds,  and  reftoring  its  peace;  aids  which,  to  the  ne- 
gligent and  vicious,  are  wholly  unknow^n.  The  greater  experi- 
ence we  have  of  the  viciflitudes  of  human  life,  with  more  weight 
will  that  precept  of  the  wife  man  always  come  home  to  our  re- 
membrance ;  Keep  thy  heart  'with  all  diligence  ;  for  out  of  it  are  the 
i^Jiics  of  life* — Hence  arifes, 

In  the  fourth  and  lad  place,  another  inftruilion,  that  is  of  the 
utmoft  importance  to  us  all; — frequently  to  look  up  to  Him  who 
made  the  human  heart ;  and  to  implore  his  afliffance  in  the  regu- 
lation and  government  of  it.  Known  to  him,  are  all  the  fources 
of  bitternefs  and  joy  by  which  it  is  afFeded,  On  him  it  depends, 
to  let  them  forth,  or  to  fliut  them  up;  to  increafe,  or  to  dirainifh 
them,  at  his  plcalure.    In  a  ftudy  fo  infinitely  important  to  happi- 

ncfs_, 
*  Prov.  iv.  q. 


l6/i  On  the  Joy, 

nefs,  as  that  of  the  prefervation  of  inward  peace,  we  cannot  be 
too  earneft  in  befeeching  aid  from  the  great  Father  of  Spirits,  to 
enable  us  to  keep  our  hearts  free  from  diflrefs  and  trouble. — Be- 
fides  the  affiftance  which  we  may  hope  to  derive  from  divine  grace, 
the  employments  of  devotion  themfelves,  form  one  of  the  moft 
powerful  means  of  compofing,  and  tranquillifingthe  heart.  On  va- 
rious occafions,  when  the  fources  of  heart-bitternefs  have  been 
xnoft  overflowi=ng,  devotion  has  been  found  the  only  refuge  of  the 
fufferer.  Devotion  opens  a  fancluary,  to  which  they,  whofe  hearts 
have  beeVr  mod  deeply  wounded,  can  always  fly.  Within  that 
quiet  and  facred  retreat,  they  have  often  found  a  healing  balfam 
prepared.  When  grieved  by  men,  they  have  derived,  from  the 
afcent  of  the  mind  towards  God  and  ceUftial  objects,  much  to  footh 
them  at  prefent,  and  much  to  hope  for  in  future.  Let  us,  there- 
fore, negled  no  mean  with  which  religion  can  furnifh  us,  for  pro- 
moting the  joys,  and  alTuaging  thebitternefs  of  the  heart.  Amidft 
the  frailties  of  our  nature,  the  inconftancy  of  men,  and  the  fre- 
quent changes  of  human  life,  we  fliall  find  every  afTiftance  that 
can  be  procured,  little  enough,  for  enabling  us  to  pafs  our  few 
days  with  tolerable  comfort  and  peace, 

SER. 


L     ^^>5    3 

SERMON     XLIV. 

On  Characters  of  Imperfect  Goodness, 

Mark  x.  12, 
Then  Jefits,  beholding  him,  loved  him. 

THE  characters  of  men  which  the  world  prefents  to  us  are  in- 
finitely diverfified.  In  feme,  either  the  good  or  the  bad 
qualities  are  fo  prodominant,  as  ftrongly  to  mark  the  character ; 
to  difcriminate  one  perfon  as  a  virtuous,  another  as  a  vicious  man. 
In  others,  thefe  qualities  are  fo  mixed  together,  as  to  leave  the 
charadler  doubtful.  The  light  and  the  (hade  are  fo  much  blend- 
ed, the  colours  of  virtue  and  vice  run  in  fuch  a  manner  into  one  a- 
nother,  that  we  can  hardly  diftinguifh  where  the  one  ends,  and 
the  other  begins ;  and  we  remain  in  fufpence,  whether  to  blame 
or  to  praife.  While  we  admire  thofe  who  are  thoroughly  good, 
and  deteft  the  groflly  wicked,  it  is  proper  alfo  to  beftow  attention 
on  thofe  imperfed  charadlers,  where  there  may  be  much  to  praife, 
and  fomewhat  to  blame  ;  and  where  regard  to  the  commendable 
part  fhall  not  hinder  us  from  remarking  what  is  defedive  or  faulty^ 
Such  attentions  will  be  found  the  more  ufeful,  as  chara6lers  of 
this  mixed  fort  are,  more  frequently  than  any  other,  exhibited  to 
us  in  the  commerce  of  fociety. 

It  was  one  of  this  fort,  which  gave  occafion  to  the  incident 
recorded  in  the  text.  The  incident  feems  to  have  been  confider- 
ed  as  remarkable,  fince  it  is  recounted  by  three  of  the  evangelical 
writers  ;  and  by  them  all,  with  nearly  the  fame  circuinftances. 
The  perfon  to  whom  the  hiftory  relates  was  a  ruler  ;  one  of  high- 
er rank  and  ftation  than  thofe  who  ufually  leforted  to  Jefus, 
He  was  a  rich  man:  He  vjdisayoung  man.  His  whole  behaviour  was 
prepofTeiTing  and  engaging.  He  appears  to  have  conceived  a  high 
opinion  of  our  Lord,     He  addrelTed  him  with  the  uimoft  refpe6t; 

and 


^66  On  the  Characters 

and  the  queftion  which  he  put  to  him  was  proper  and  important^ 
He  kneeled  to  him  ;  andfaidy  Good  Majier^  what  fljall  1  do  that  1  may 
inherit  eternal  life  F  His  conduct  in  the  world  had  been  regular 
and  decent.  He  could  prcteft,  that  he  had  hitherto  kept  himfelf 
free  from  any  grofs  vice  ;  and  in  his  dealings  with  others  had  ob- 
ferved  the  precepts  of  God.  Our  Lord,  beholding  him,  is  faid  to 
have  loved  him;  whence  we  have  reafon  to  conclude,  that  he  was 
not  hypocritical  in  his  profefTions ;  and  that  his  countenance  car- 
ried the  exprcilion  of  good  difpofuions,  as  bis  fpeech,  and  his  man- 
ners were  altogether  complacent  and  gentle.  Yet  this  perfon, 
amiable  as  he  was,  when  his  virtue  v^as  put  to  the  left,  difappoint- 
ed  the  hopes  which  he  had  given  reafon  to  form.  Attached,  in 
all  probability,  to  the  indulgence  of  eafe  and  pleafure,  he  wanted 
fortitude  of  mind  to  part  with  the  advantages  of  the  world,  for 
the  fake  of  religion.  When  our  Lord  required  him  to  fulfil  his 
good  intentions,  by  relinquidiing  his  fortune,  becoming  one  of 
his  followers,  and  preparing  himfelf  to  encounter  fufferings,  the 
facrifice  appeared  to  him  too  great.  Impreflions  of  virtue,  however, 
flill  remained  on  his  mind.  He  was  fenfible  of  v/hat  he  ought  to 
have  done;  and  regretted  his  want  of  courage  to  do  it.  He  was 
fQrrowful:  He  was  grieved:  Yet  he  went  away. 

Persons  ot  a  charader  fomewhat  refemblingthis,  all  of  us  may 
have  met  with;  efpecially,  among  the  young;  among  thofe  who 
have  been  liberally  educated  and  polifhed  by  good  fociety.  They 
abhor  open  vice,  and  crimes  that  tlifturb  the  world.  They  have 
a  refpeft  for  religion.  They  are  willing  to  receive  inftruclion  for 
their  condud.  They  are  modeft  and  unaiTuming  ;  refpectful  to  their 
fuperiors  in  age  or  ftation  ;  gentle  in  their  addrefs  ;  inoffenfive 
and  courteous  in  their  whole  behaviour.  They^re  fond  of  oblig- 
ing every  one;  unwilling  to  hurt  or  difpleafe  any. — Such  perfons 
we  cannot  but  love.  We  gladly  promife  well  ot  them  :  and 
are  difpofed  to  forward  and  alfut  them.  Yet  fuch  is  the  weaknefs 
of  our  nature,  that  at  the  bottom  of  this  characler  there  may  lie, 
as  we  fee  exemplified  in  the  inftance  before  us,  fome  fecret  and 
njaterial  defects.  That  vigour  of  mind,  that  firmnefs  of  prin- 
ciple, may  be  wanting,  which  is  rcquifite  for  enabling  them  to 
act  with  propriety,  when  their  virtue  is  put  to  a  decifive  trial. 
The  foftnefs  of  their  nature  is  unfavourable  to  a  fteady  perfever- 

ance 


rf  tmperfeSi  Goodnefs.  26j 

pcrfeverance  in  the  courfe  of  integrity.  They  poflefsthe  amiable 
qualities;  but  there  is  ground  to  llifpefl,  that  in  the  eOimable 
ones  they  are  deficient.  While,  therefore,  we  by  no  means  clafs 
the^i  among  ths  bad,  we  dare  not  give  them  the  full  praife  of 
virtue.  When  they  fet  out  in  the  world,  we  cannot  pronounce 
with  confidence,  what  confirmed  features  their  character  will  af- 
fume  ;  nor  how  far  they  can  be  depended  upon,  in  future  life- 
Allow  me  now  to  point  out  the  dangers  which  fuch  perfons  are 
moft  likely  to  incur  ;  and  to  fiiow  what  is  requifite  for  them  far- 
ther to  ftudy,  in  order  to  their  fulfilling  the  part  of  good  men  and 
true  Cbriftians. 

I.  Persons  of  this  defcription  are  not  qualified  for  difcharging 
aright  many  duties,  to  which  their  fituation  in  life  may  call  them# 
In  certain  circumftances,  they  behave  with  abundance  of  propri- 
ety. When  all  is  calm  and  fmooth  around  them  ;  when  notliing 
Occurs  to  agitate  the  mind,  or  to  difturb  the  tenour  of  placid  life^ 
none  of  their  defeats  come  forward.  They  arc  beloved ;  and 
they  are  ufeful.  They  promote  the  comfort  of  human  fociety  5 
and,  by  gentlenefs  and  courtefy  of  manners,  ferve  to  cement 
men  together  in  agreeable  union.  But  to  fail  on  the  tranquil  fur- 
face  of  an  unruffled  lake,  and  to  fteer  a  fafe  courfe  through  a 
troubled  and  ftormy  ocean,  require  different  talents.  Alas !  hu- 
man life  oftener  refembles  the  ftormy  ocean,  than  the  unruffled 
lake.  We  fliall  not  have  been  long  embarked^  without  finding 
the  refemblance  to  hold  too  clofely. 

Amidst  the  buflle  of  the  world,  amidft  the  open  contentions 
and  fecret  enmities,  v/hich  prevail  in  every  lociety,  mildnefs,  and 
gendenels  alone,  are  not  fufficient  to  carry  us,  with  honour, 
through  the  duties  of  our  different  ftations ;  as  heads  of  families, 
citizens,  fubje£ls,  magiftrates,  or  as  engaged  in  the  pnrfuits  of 
our  feveral  callings.  Difturbances  and  trials  arife,  which  demand 
vigorous  exertions  of  all  the  moral  powers ;  of  patience,  vigi- 
lance, and  felf-denial;  of  conftancy  and  fortitude,  to  fupport  us 
under  danger  and  reproach  ;  of  temperance,  to  reftrain  us  from  be- 
ing carried  away  by  pleafure  ;  of  firm  and  determined  principle,  to 
make  us  defplfe  the  bribes  of  fin.  Thefe  manly  difpoGtions  of  mind 
are  indifpenfci-bly  neceffary  to  prepare  one  for  furmounting  the 
difcouragements  of  virtue  ;  and  for  ftruggling  honourably  through 
the  hardfiiips  of  life.  Unlefs  he  be  thus  armed  and  fortified, 
I  i  whatever 


268  On  Characters 

whatever  good  intentions  have  been  in  hrs  heart,  th^y  are  like!/ 
to  be  fruftrated  in  adion.  Nothing  that  is  great,  can  be  underta- 
ken. Nothing  that  is  difficult  or  hazardous,  can  be  accompliflied. 
Nor  are  we  to  imagine,  that  it  is  only  in  times  of  perfecution,  or 
war,  or  civil  commotions,  that  there  is  occafion  for  thofe  ftrong- 
er  efforts,  thofe  mafculine  virtues  of  the  foul,  to  be  difplayed. 
The  private,  and  feeniingly  quiet,  ftations  of  life,  often  call  men 
forth,  in  the  days  of  peace,  to  fevere  trials  of  firmnefs  and  con- 
(lancy.  The  life  of  very  few  proceeds  in  fo  uniform  a  train,  as 
not  to  oblige  them  to  difcaver,  in  fome  fituation  or  other,  what 
portion  they  poflefs  of  the  eflimable  qualities  of  man.  Hence  it 
fometirnes  happens,  that  perfons,  whofe  manners  were  much  lefs 
promifing  and  engaging  than  thofe  of  others,  have,  neverthelefs, 
when  brought  to  adt  a  part  in  critical  circumftances,  performed  that 
part  with  more  unfullicd  honour,  and  firmer  integrity,  than  they. 

II.  Persons  of  the  charadler  I  have  defcribed  are  ill  fitted, 
not  only  for  difcharging  the  higher  duties  of  life,  but  alfo  for  re- 
fiftino- the  common  temptations  to  vice.  With  good  difpofitions 
in  their  mind,  with  adefire,  like  the  young  ruler  in  the  text,  to 
know  what  they  fhall  do,  to  inherit  eternal  life  ;  yet,  when  the 
terms  required  of  them  interfere  with  any  favourite  enjoyment, 
like  him,  they  are  forrowful ;  and  go  away.  The  particular  trial 
to  which  he  was  put,  may  appear  to  be  a  hard  one,  and  to  ex- 
ceed the  ordinary  rate  ot  virtue.  Our  Lord,  who  difcerned  his 
heart,  faw  it  to  be  necelTary,  in  his  cafe,  for  bringing  his  cha- 
racter to  the  teft.  But  in  cafes  where  trials  of  much  lels  difficulty 
prefent  themfelves,  they  who  partake  of  a  character  fimilar  to 
his,  are  often  found  to  give  way.  The  good  qualities  which 
they  poflefs,  border  on  certain  weaknefles  of  the  mind  ;  and  thefe 
weakneflcs  are  apt  to  betray  them  infenfibly  into  vices,  with 
which  they  are  conne£led. 

Good  nature,  for  inftance,  is  in  danger  of  running  into  that 
unlimited  complaifance,  which  afTimilates  men  to  the  loofe  man- 
ners of  thofe  whom  they  find  around  them.  Pliant,  and  yielding 
in  their  temper,  they  have  not  force  to  ftand  by  the  deeifions  of 
their  own  minds,  with  regard  to  right  and  wrong.  Like  the 
animal  which  is  faid  to  afifume  the  colour  of  every  object  to  which 
jt  is  applied,  they  lofe  all  proper  charader  of  their  own,  and  are 
formed  by  the  characters  of  thofe  wiik  whom  they  chance  to  afTo- 

ciate. 


(f  lmperfe6}  Coodnefs,  2^79 

ciate. — The  mild  are  apt  to  fink  into  habits  of  indolence  and 
floth.  The  cheerful  and  gay,  when  warmed  by  plcafure  and 
mirth,  lofe  that  fobriety  and  felf-denial,  which  is  eflential  to  the 

fupport  of  virtue. Even  modefty  and  fubmiffion,  qualities  fo 

valuable  in  themfelves,  and  fo  highly  ornamental  to  youth,  fome- 
times  degenerate  into  a  vicious  timidity ;  a  timidity  which  re- 
ftrains  men  from  doing  their  duty  with  firmnefs ;  which  cannot 
fiand  the  frown  of  the  great,  the  reproach  of  the  multitude,  or  e- 
ven  the  ridicule  and  fneer  of  the  fcorner. 

Nothing  can  be  more  amiable  than  a  condant  de^re  topleale; 
and  an  unwiHingnefs  to  offend  or  hurt.  Yet  in  charaders  where 
this  is  a  predominant  feature,  defeats  are  often  found.  Fond  al- 
ways  to  oblige,  and  afraid  to  utter  any  difagreeable  truth,  fuch 
perfons  are  fometimes  led  to  diflemble.  Their  love  of  truth  is 
facrificed  to  their  love  of  pleafing.  Their  fpeech,  and  their  man- 
ners, aflume  a  ftudied  courtefy.  You  connot  always  depend  on 
their  fmile;  nor,  when  they  promife,  befure  of  the  performance. 
They  mean  and  intend  well.  But  the  good  intention  is  temporal 
ry.  Like  wax,  they  yield  eafiiy  to  every  impreflion ;  and  the 
tranfient  friend fliip  coiitraded  with  one  perfon,  is  effaced  by  the 
next.  Undiftinguiflied  defire  to  oblige,  often  proves,  in  the  pre- 
lent  ftate  of  human  things,  a  dangerous  habit.  They  who  can- 
not, on  many  occafions,  give  a  firm  and  fteady  denial,  or  who 
cannot  break  off  a  connexion,  which  has  been  haftily  and  impro- 
perly formed,  ftand  on  the  brink  of  many  raifchiefs.  They  will 
be  fcduced  by  the  corrupting,  enfnared  by  the  artful,  betrayed 
by  thofe  in  whom  they  had  placed  their  truft.  Unfufpicious  theni- 
felves,  they  were  flattered  with  the  belief  of  having  many  friends 
around  them.  Elated  with  fanguine  hopes,  and  cheerful  fpirits 
they  reckoned,  that  to-morrow  would  be  as  this  day,  and  more  a* 
bundant.  Injudicious  liberality  and  thoughtlefs  profufion,  are  the 
confequence,  until,  in  the  end,  the  f^raits  to  which  they  are  re- 
duced, bring  them  into  meaner  difiionourablecourfes.  Through 
innocent  but  unguarded  weaknefs,  and  from  want  of  the  feverer 
virtues,  they  are,  in  procefs  of  time,  betrayed  into  downright 
crimes.  Such  may  be  the  conclufion  of  thofe,  who,  like  the 
young  ruler  before  us,  with  many  amiable  and  promifing  difpo^ 
Utions,  had  begun  their  career  in  life, 

III,  Such 


2JQ  On  Characlers 

III.  Such  perfons  are  not  prepared  for  funaining,  with  f5ro- 
priety  and  dignity,  the  diHrelTes  to  which  our  (late  is  hable. 
They  were  equipped  for  the  feafon  of  funlhine  and  ferenity  ;  but 
when  the  flvy  is  overcad:,  and  the  days  of  darknefs  come,  their 
feeble  minds  are  deftitute  of  fijelter,  and  ill  provided  for  defence. 
Then  is  the  time,  when  more  hardy  qualities  are  required  ;  when 
courage  mult  face  danger,  conftancy  fupport  pain,  patience  polleis 
kfelf  in  the  nm\\i  of  diicouragements,  magnanimity  difplay  its  con- 
tempt of  threatenings.  If  thofe  high  virtues  be  altogether  flran- 
rrers  to  the  mind,  the  mild  and  geritle  will  certainly  fink  under  the 

torrent  or  difafters The  ruler  in  the  text  could  plead,  that 

bis  behaviour  to  others,  in  the  courfe  of  focial  life,  had  been  unex- 
ceptionable. So  far,  the  refie(5lion  on  his  ccndu6l  would  afford  him 
comfort  amidO:  adverfity.  But  no  man  is  without  failings.  In  the 
<^ejeding  feafon  of  trouble,  it  will  occur  to  every  one,  that  he  has 
been  guilty  of  frequent  trangreiTion ;  that  much  of  what  ought 
to  have  beerj  done,  was  neglefted  ;  and  that  much  of  what  has 
been  done,  had  better  have  been  omitted.  In  fuch  fituations, 
-yvhen  a  thoufand  apprehenfions  arife  to  alarm  confcience,  nothing 
is  able  to  quiet  itsuneafinefs,  except  a  well-grounded  trufl-  in  the 
mercy  and  acceptance  of  Heaven.  It  is  firm  religious  principles, 
aeling  upon  a  manly  and  enlightened  mind,  that  gives  dignity  to 
t^ie  character,  and  compofure  to  the  heart,  under  all  the  troubles 
of  the  world.  This  enables  the  brave  and  virtuous  man,  with 
fuccefs  to  buffet  the  fiorni.  While  he,  who  had  once  fparkled  in 
fociety  with  all  the  charms  of  gay  vivacity,  and  had  been  the  de- 
light of  every  circle  in  v(  hich  he  was  engaged,  remains  difpiriied, 
overwhelmed,  and  annihilated,  in  the  evil  day. 

Such  are  the  failings  incident  to  perfons  of  mixed  and  imper- 
fed:  goodnefs:  fuch  the  defe6LS  of  a  charadler  formed  merely  of 
the  amiable,  without  the  edimable  qualities  of  man. 

It  appears  from  this,  that  we  muft:  not  place  too  much  truft  in 
the  fair  appearances,  whicha  charadier  may  at  firfl  exhibit,  Injudg. 
ing  of  others,  let  us  always  think  the  bed,  and  employ  the  fpirit  of 
charity  and  candour.  But  in  judging  of  ourfelves,  we  ought  to 
be  more  fevere.  Let  us  remember  him  whom  our  Lord  beheld,  and 
loved;  and  who  yet  fell  fliort  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  Let  us 
not  forget,  that  fomething  more  than  gentlenefs  and  modefty, 
than  couiplaccncy  of  temper  and  affability  of  manners;  is  requifits 

to 


of  ImperfelSi  Goodnefs,  lyi 

to  form  a  worthy  man,  and  a  true  Chriftian.  To  a  high  place  in 
our  efteem,  thefe  qualities  are  juftly  entitled.  They  enter  eflen- 
tially  into  every  good  man's  charader.  They  form  fome  of  its 
nioit  favourable  diiliactions.  But  they  conftitute  a  part  of  it ;  not 
the  whole.  Let  us  not,  therefore,  reft  on  them  entirely,  when 
we  conceive  an  idea  of  what  manner  of  perfons  we  ought  to  be. 

Let  piety  form  the  bafis  of  firm  and  eftabliflied  virtue.  If  this 
be  wanting,  the  character  cannot  be  found  and  entire.  Moral 
virtue  will  always  be  endangered,  often  be  overthrown,  when  it 
is  feparated  from  its  fureft  fupport.  Confidence  in  God,  ftrengih- 
ened  by  faith  in  the  great  Redeemer  of  mankind,  not  only,  amidil 
the  feverer  trials  of  virtue,  gives  conflancy  to  the  mind,  but,  by 
nourilhing  the  hopes  of  immortality,  adds  warmth  and  elevation 
to  the  affedlions.  They  whofe  condud:  is  not  animated  by  religious 
principle,  are  deprived  of  the  moft  powerful  incentive  to  worthy 
and  honourable  deeds. 

Let  fuch  difcipline,  next,  be  ftudied,  as  may  form  us  to  the 
aclive  and  manly  virtues.  To  natural  good  affedlions,  we  can  ne- 
ver entirely  truft  our  condudi:,  Thefe,  as  has  been  fhown,  may 
fometimes  be  warped  into  what  is  wrong ;  and  often  will  prove, 
infufficient  for  carrying  us  rightly  through  all  the  duties  of  life. 
Good  affed:io!is  are  highly  valuable  ;  but  they  muft  be  fupported  by 
fixed  principles,  cultivated  in  the  underftanding,  and  rooted  in 
the  heart.  Habits  muft  be  acquired  of  temperance  and  felf-denial, 
that  we  may  be  able  to  refift  pleafure,  and  endure  pain,  when  ei- 
ther of  them  interfere  with  our  duty,  that  we  may  be  prepared 
to  make  a  facrifice  of  any  worldly  intereft,  when  the  voice  of  God 
and  confcience  demand  it.  Let  us  always  remember,  that  with- 
out fortitude  of  mind,  there  is  no  manhood  ;  there  can  be  no  per- 
feverance  in  virtue.  Let  a  facred  and  inviolable  regard  for  truth 
reign  in  our  whole  behaviour.  Let  us  be  diftinguifned  for  fideli- 
ty to  every  promife  we  have  made  ;  and  for  conftancv  in  every 
worthy  friendfhip  we  have  formed.  Let  no  weak  complaifance, 
no  undue  regard  to  the  opinions  of  men,  ever  make  us  betray  the 
rights  of  conlcience.  What  we  have  once,  upon  due  confideration, 
adopted  as  rules  of  condudl,  to  thefe  let  us  adhere  unlhaken.  How 
ever  the  world  may  change  around  us,  let  it  find  us  the  lame  in 
profperity  and  adverfity  ;  faithful  to  God  and  virtue ;  faithful  to  the 
convictions  of  our  osvn  heart.    What  our  lot  in  the  world  may  be, 

is 


272  Oj2  CharaSiers 

is  not  ours  to  forefee  or  determine.  But  it  is  ours  to  refolve,  that 
■whatever  it  iliall  be,  it  (hall  find  us  perfevering  in  one  line  of  up- 
rightnefs  and  honour. 

By  fueh  difcipline,  fuch  attentions  as  thefe,  we  are  to  guard 
againft  thofe  failings  which  are  fometimes  found  to  (lain  the  moft 
engaging  charaflers.  Joining  in  proper  union  the  amiable  and 
eftimable  qualities,  by  the  one  we  fhall  attract  the  good  ;  and  by 
the  other,  command  refpedlfrom  the  bad.  We  fhall  both  fecure 
our  own  integrity,  and  (hall  exhibit  to  others  a  proper  view  of 
what  virtue  is,  in  its  native  grace  and  majefty.  In  one  part 
of  our  charaiSer,  we  fhall  referable  the  flower  that  fmiles  in  fpring ; 
in  another,  the  firmly-rooted  tree,  that  braves  the  winter  ftorm- 
For,  remember  we  mufl,  that  there  is  a  feafc^T  of  winter,  as  well 
as, of  fpring  and  fummer,  in  human  life;  and  it  concerns  us  to  be 
equally  prepared  for  both. 

A  HIGHER  and  more  perfed  example  of  fuch  a  charafler  as  I 
now  recommend,  cannot  be  found,  than  what  is  prefented  to  us  in 
the  life  of  Jefus  Chrift.  In  him  we  behold  all  that  is  gentle,  unit- 
ed with  all  that  is  refpedable.  It  is  a  remarkable  exprellion,  which 
the  Apofiie  Paul  employs  concerning  him ;  /  befeech  you  by  the 
meeknefs  and  gentle  nefs  of  Chrlft.*  Well  might  thefe  qualities  be 
iingled  out,  as  thofe  for  which  he  was  known  and  difiinguiflied. 
We  fee  him  in  his  whole  behaviour  affable,  courteous,  and  eafy 
ofaccefs.  Heconverfed  familiarly  with  all  who  prefented  themfelves; 
and  defpifed  not  the  meanefl:.  With  all  the  infirmities  of  his  difciples 
be  calmly  bore ;  and  his  rebukes  were  mild,  when  their  provoca- 
tions were  great.  He  wept  over  the  calamities  of  his  country^ 
which  perfecuted  him ;  and  apologifed  and  prayed  for  them  who 
put  him  to  death.  Yet  the  fame  Jefus  we  behold,  awful  in  the 
Itridnefs  of  his  virtue;  inflexible  in  the  caufe  of  truth  ;  uncom- 
plying with  prevailing  manners,  when  he  found  them  corrupt;  ^gu 
ting  his  face  boldly  againfl  the  hypocritical  leaders  of  the  people; 
over-awed  by  none  of  their  threatenings ;  in  the  moft  indignant 
terms,  reproving  their  vices  and  ftigmatizing  their  characters' 
We  behold  him  gentle,  without  being  tame;  firm,  without  being 
flern  ;  courageous,  without  being  violent.  Let  this  mind  be  in  us 
-which  was  alfo  in  Jefus  Chrijl ;  and  we  fliall  attain  to  honour,  bc'.h 
with  God  and  with  man. 

*  2  Cqv,  X,  I,  S  E  R- 


C    2/3    3 

SERMON       XLV. 

On  the  Sacrament  of  the  Lord's  Supper,  as 
a  Preparation  for  Death. 

Preached  at  the  celebration  of  the  Sacrament  of  the  Lord's  Supper, 

^  ••^"$"»-^-»-^— — 

Matthew  xxvi.  29. 

But  I  fay  unto  yoUy  Ivaill  not  drink  he?ice forth  of  this  fruit  of  the  vine  ^ 
until  that  day  when  I  drink  it  new  with  you  in  my  Father's  kingdom. 

X^ITH  thefe  words  of  our  blefTed  Lord,  the  Evangelifl:  con- 
'  ^  eludes  his  account  of  the  inftftution  of  the  facramcnt  of  the 
Cupper.  It  is  an  inftitution  which,  folemn  and  venerable  in  itfelf, 
is  rendered  ftill  more  fo,  by  the  circumftances  which  accompanied 
it.  Our  Lord  had  now,  for  about  three  years,  continued  to  ap- 
pear in  his  public  chara(5ler,  in  the  land  of  Judea.  He  had,  all 
along,  been  watched  with  a  jealous  eye,  by  his  enemies ;  and 
the  time  was  come,  when  they  were  to  prevail  againft  him.  A 
few  friends  he  had,  from  the  beginning,  feledted,  who,  in  every 
viciffitude  of  his  (bte,  remained  faithfully  attached  to  him.  With 
thefe  friends  he  was  now  meeting  for  the  laft  time,  on  the  very 
evening  in  which  he  was  betrayed  and  feized.  He  perfedly  knew 
all  that  was  to  befal  him.  He  knew  that  this  was  the  laft  meal  in 
which  he  was  to  join  with  ihofe,  who  had  been  the  companions  of 
all  his  labours,  the  confidence  of  all  liis  griefs ;  among  whom  he 
had  pafled  all  the  quiet  and  private  moments  of  his  life.  He  knew, 
that  within  a  few  hours,  he  was  to  be  torn  from  this  loved  fociety, 
by  a  band  of  ruffians;  and  by  to-morrow,  was  to  be  publicly  ar- 
raigned, as  a  malefactor.  With  a  heart  melting  with  tendernefs, 
he  faid  to  the  twelve  Apoftles,  as  he  fat  down  with  them  at  tables 
Vith  defire  I  have  defred  to  eat  this  pajfover  with  you  before  IfufferA 

And 
+  Luke  xxii.  15,  -  - 


2Y4  ^^  ^^^  Sacrament  of  the  Lord^s  Supper y 

And  then,  having  gratified  himfelf  for  the  laft  time  in  their  focietyj 
and  having  inftituted  that  commemoration  of  his  death,  which  was 
to  continue  in  the  Chriftian  church  until  the  end  of  ages,  he  took 
a  folemn  and  affedionate  farewel  of  his  friends,  in  the  words  of 
the  text,  I  fay  unto  you,  that  I  will  not  drink  hencejorth  of  this  fruit 
of  the  vine,  until  that  day  when  I  drink  it  neiv  with  you  in  my  father^ s 
kingdom. 

As  thefe  words  were  uttered  by  onr  Lord,  in  the  profpecl  of 
his  fufFerings;  when  preparing  himfelf  for  death,  and  looking  for- 
ward to  a  future  meeting  with  his  friends  in  heaven  ;  let  us,  under 
this  view,  confider  the  facrament  which  he  then  inftituted,  as  a 
preparation  for  all  the  fufferings  of  life,  and  efpecially,  a  prepa- 
ration for  death.  It  is  fit  and  proper,  that  fuch  folemn  profpeds 
ftioiild  enter  into  the  fervice  which  we  are  this  day  to  perform. 
We  have  no  reafon  to  imagine,  that  they  will  render  it  a  gloomy 
jfervice.  A  good  and  wife  man  is  often  difpofed  to  look  forward 
to  the  termination  of  life.  The  number  of  our  days  is  determined  by 
God ;  and  certainly  it  will  not  tend  ro  Hiorren  their  number,  that 
we  employ  ourfeives  in  preparing  for  death.  On  the  contrary, 
while  bur  days  laft,  it  will  tend  to  make  us  pafs  them  more  com. 
fortably,  and  more  wifely.  Let  us  now,  then,  as  if  for  the  laft 
time  we  were  to  partake  of  this  facrament,  confider  how  it  may 
ferve  to  prepare  us  for  the  dying  hour. 

I.  It  is  a  high  exercife'of  all  thofe  difpofitions  and  nfteclions,  in 
which  a  good  man  would  wifli  to  die.  He  would  furely  willi  to 
leave  this  world,  in  the  fpirit  of  devotion  towards  God,  and  of 
fellowlhip  and  charity  with  all  his  breti^ren  on  earth.  Now,  iheie 
are  the  very  fentiments,  which  the  facrament  of  the  Lord's  Sup- 
per in  fpires  into  the  heart  of  every  pious  communicant.  It  includes 
the  higheft  ads  of  devotion  of  which  human  nature  is  capable. 
It  imports,  a  lively  fenfe  of  the  infinite  mercies  of  Heaven  ;  of  the 
gratitude  we  owe  to  that  God,  who,  by  the  death  of  his  Son, 
hath  reftored  the  forfeited  happinefs  and  hopes  of  the  human  rrxe. 
It  imports,  the  confecration  of  the  foul  to  God  ;  the  entire  reHg- 
nation  of  ourfeives,  and  all  our  concerns,  into  his  hands ;  as  to  the 
God  whom  we  ferve  and  love  ;  the  guardian  in  whom  we  confide. 
To  thee,  0  Lord,  do  I  lift  up  my  foul.  I  will  go  to  the  altar  of  Ced,  to 
Cod  my  exeeeding  joy^  J  will  come  into  thy  houfe  in  the  multitude  of 

thy 


AS  a  Preparation  for  Death,  7y§ 

thy  mercy  ;  and  in  thy  fear,  I  will  worjhip  towards  thy  holy  temple  ^"^ 
These  devout  alfeclions  towards  God  are,  on  this  occafion, 
necefTariiy  acconipanied  with  benevolent  difpofitions  towards  men. 
Our  communion  is  not  only  with  God,  but  with  one  another. 
In  this  Iblemn  fervice,  the  diftindion  of  ranks  is  aholifhed.  We 
afTemble  in  common  before  our  great  Lord,  profeiTing  ourfelves 
to  be  all  members  of  his  family,  and  children  of  the  fame  Father. 
No  feud,  nor  ftrife,  nor  enmity,  is  permitted  to  approach  the  fa- 
cred  table.  All  within  that  hallowed  fpace,  breathes  peace,  and 
concord,  and  love.  //  thou  bring  thy  gift  to  the  altar,  and  there 
rememberefi  that  thy  brother  hath  ovght  again  ft  thee  ;  leave  there  thy 
gift  before  the  altar,  and  go  thy  way  ;  firf}  be  reconciled  to  thy  bro. 
ther  ;  and  then  come  and  offer  thy  gift,  f  What  can  be  more  becoming 
men  and  Chriitians,  than  fuch  fentiments  of  piety  to  the  great 
Father  of  the  univerfe;  gratitude  to  the  merciful  Redeemer  of 
mankind  J  and  charity  and  forgivenefs  towards  all  our  brethren? 
Is  not  this  the  temper  in  which  a  good  man  would  wifli  to  live  ? 
more  efpeciaily,  is  not  this  the  frame  of  mind  which  will  give 
both  dignity  and  peace  to  his  laft  moments?  How  difcompofed 
and  embittered  will  thcfe  important  moments  prove,  if,  with  a 
mind  Toured  by  the  remembrance  of  unforgiven  injuries,  with  2. 
brcafl:  rankled  by  enmity,  with  a  heart  alienated  from  God^  and 
inlenfible  to  devotion,  one  be  forced  away  from  life  ? 

Contemplate  the  manner  in  which  our  blefled  Lord  died; 
which  the  fervice  of  this  day  brings  particularly  into  your  view. 
You  behold  him,  amidft  the  extremity  of  pain,  calm  and  colic^- 
ed  within  himfelf^  pofTeffing  hisfpirit  with  all  the  ferenity  which 
fublime  devotion,  and  exalted  benevolence  infpirc.  You  hear 
him,  firft,  lamenting  the  fate  of  his  unhappy  country  ;  next,  v^hen 
he  was  faftened  to  the  crofs,  addrefliDg  words  of  confolation  10 
his  affli(rted  parent ;  and  laftly,  fending  up  prayers,  mixed  with 
compaflionate  apologies,  for  thofe  who  were  (bedding  his  blood. 
After  all  thofe  exercifes  of  charity,  you  behold  him  in  an  ^<\  of 
devout  adoration  and  iruft,  refigning  his  breath  ;  Father,  into  thy 

hands  I  commend  my  fplrit . Can  any  death  be  pronounced  un- 

h..ppy,  how  diftrefsful  foever  its  circumdances  may  be,  which  is 
thus  fupported,  and  dignified?  What  could  v. e  v^ii'h  for  more  in 
our  laft  moments,  than  with   this  peaceful  frame  of  mind,  this 

K  k  calm 

*  Pfalm  xliii.  4.  v>  ;>  t  lyJ^tthe-u)  v.  7^,  2^, 


"X-]^  On  the  Sacrament  of  the  Lord^s  Supper, 

ca\jn  of  all  the  affedions,  this  exsltation  of  heart  towards  God,  thrs 
difFufion  of  benevolence  towards  men,  to  bid  adieu  to  the  world  ? 

If,  in  fuch  a  fpirit  as  this,  we  wonld  all  wifh  to  die,  let  iis 
think,  that  now  is  the  time  to  prepare  fo^*  it,  by  feafonably  culti- 
vating this  fpirit  while  we  live  ;  by  imbibing,  in  particular,  from 
the  holy  facrament,  thofe  difpofitions  and  affecftions  which  we 
would  \vi(h  to  pofTcfs  at  our  lateft  period.  It  is  ahogether  vain 
to  imagine,  that  when  the  hour  of  death  approaches,  we  tliall  be 
able  to  form  ourfelves  into  the  frame  of  mind  which  is  then  moft 
pYoper  and  decent.  Amidft  the  ftruggles  of  nature,  and  under 
the  load  of  ficknefs  or  pain,  it  is  not  time  for  unaccuflomed  exer- 
tions to  be  made,  or  for  new  reformations  to  be  begun.  Suffd- 
entj  and  more  than  fufHcient,  for  that  day  is  the  evil  thereof.  It 
will  be  too  late  to  affume  then  the  hero,  or  the  faint,  if  we  have 
been  totally  unacquainted  with  the  character  before.  The  fenti- 
ments  we  would  difplay,  and  the  language  we  would  utter,  will 
be  alien  and  Grange  to  us.  They  will  be  forced,  and  foreign  to 
the  heart.  It  is  only  in  confequence  of  habits  acquired  in  former 
and  belter  days,  that  a  temper  of  piety  and  charity  can  grow  up 
into  fuch  flrengih,  as  to  confer  peace  and  magnanimity  on  the 
concluding  hours  of  life.  Peculiarly  favourable  to  the  acqufition 
cf  fuch  a  temper,  are  the  devotions  of  this  day.  In  this  view, 
let  us  perform  them  ;  and  ftudy  to  be  at  the  table  cf  the  Lord, 
vhat  we  would  wiOi  to  be  when  thefummons  of  death  fhall  corae. 

II.  This  facram.ent  becomes  a  preparation  for  death,  by  lay- 
ing a  foundation  for  peace  with  God.  What  is  important  at  the 
clofe  of  life,  is  not  only  the  temper  in  which  we  leave  the  world, 
but  the  fuuation  in  which  we  ftand  with  refpet^l  to  that  great 
Judge,  before  whom  we  are  about  to  appear.  This  view  of  our 
fuuation  is  apt  to  efcape  us,  during  the  ordinary  courfe  of  life. 
Occupied  with  the  affairs  and  concerns  of  this  world;  flattered 
by  thofe  illufive  colours  of  innocence  and  virtue,  in  w  hich  i'elf- 
love  drefies  up  our  charafter,  apprehenfions  ot  guilt  create  little 
uneafmefs  to  the  multitude  ot  men.  But,  on  the  approach  of 
death,  their  ideas  change.  As  the  inquiiiiion  of  the  Supreme 
Judge  daws  nigh,  remembered  tranfgrelfions  crowd  upon  the  mind  ; 
Guik  becomes  itrongly  reaiifed  to  the  in)agination;  and  alarms, 
before  unknov^n,  begin  to  arife.  Hence  that  anxiety,  intheprc- 
ipefl  of  a  future  invifible  world,  which  is  fo  often  feen  to  attend 

•  ,  the 


_-'    as  a  Preparation  for  Death,  177 

the  bed  of  deathi  Hence  thofe  various  methods  which  fuperfti- 
tion  has  devifed  for  quieting  this  anxiety  ;  the  trembling  mind 
eagerly  grafping  every  feeble  plank  on  which  it  can  lay  hold  ;  and 
flying  for  protection  to  the  moll  unavailing  aid.  The  Uouteil  fpi- 
rits  have  been  then  known  to  bend ;  the  proudeft  hearts,  to  be 
humbled.  They. who  are  now  moft  thoughtlefs  about  their  fpi- 
ritual  concerns,  may,  perhaps,   be  in  this  itate  before  they  die. 

The  difpenfation  of  grace,  difcovered  in  the  gofpel,  affords 
the  only  remedy  againft  ihofe  terrors,  by  the  promife  of  pardon, 
extended  to  the  penitent,  through  the  merits  of  our  Lord  Jefus 
Chrid.  It  is  the  very  elTence  of  this  facrament,  to  exhibit  this 
promifed  grace  to  mankind  ;  "  My  body  which  was  broken  for 
**  you^  my  blood  flied  for  many,  for  the  renuiFioD  of  fms.'^ 
Here,  fliines  from  above,  the  ray  of  hope.  Divine  juftice,  we 
are  afllired,  is  not  inexorable.  Divine  mercy  is  acceflible,  to  all 
n'ho  believe  and  repent.  The  participation  of  this  facrament, 
therefore,  naturally  imparts  comfort  to  the  worthy  communicant; 
as  it  luppofes,  on  his  part,  a  cordial  compliance  withthofe  terms, 
on  which   pardon  is  offered  by  the  gofpel  to  mankind. 

I  MEAN  not  to  fay,  that  the  participation  of  this  facrament, 
how  pious  and  proper  foever  our  difpofitions  at  the  time  may  be, 
is,  of  itfelf,  fuHicient  to  infure  us  of  comfort  at  death.  It  were 
unwarrantable  to  flatter  Chriftians,  with  hopes  to  this  extent.  No 
fmgle  a6l  of  the  moft  fervent  devotion  can  afford  affured  hopes  of 
peace  with  Heaven,  until  thefe  hopes  be  confirmed  by  the  fuc- 
ceeding  tenor  of  a  good  life.  But  what  may  fafely  be  afferted 
is,  that  communicating  in  a  proper  manner,  makes  way  for  fuch 
hopes.  It  is  an  introdu6lion  to  that  ftate  of  reconciliation  with 
God,  which  will  give  you  peace  in  death.  It  is  the  beginning  of 
a  good  courfe,  which,  if  duly  purfued,  will  make  your  latter  end 
bleiTed.  It  is  the  entrance  of  the  path  of  the  juji- -^  the  morn- 
ing of  that  light  luhich  Jhineth  more  and  more  unto  the  per  feci  day* 
For  this  holy  facrament  is  a  profeffed  renunciation  of  the  vices  and 
corruptions  of  the  world.  It  is  a  profeffed  dirfflidion  cf  former 
evil  habits;  a  folenm  return,  on  our  part,  to  God  and  virtue, 
under  the  firm  truil,  that  God  will,  through  Jefus  Chrift,  fhow 
mercy  to  the  frailties  of  the  penitent^  If  you  continue  to  lupport 
the  charafter  x<1iich  you  tfiis  day  affume,  the  invifible  world  will 
no  longer  prcfcnt  to  you  a  fcene  of  terrors,  You  will  be  com- 
forted 


nyt  On  the  Sacrament  of  ihe  LordU  Spppfr, 

forted  with  the  view  of  goodnefs  and  compafilon,  as  predominant 
in  the  adminiftration  of  the  univerfe.  After  havino;  finiflied  a 
virtuous  courfe,  you  will  be  able  to  look  up  to  that  God  whom 
you  have  woi  ihipp/<;d,  and  to  fay,  1  know  In  whom  1  havs  trujhd^ 
Though  I  -walk  through  ihe  vaiky  of  ihe /Jjadow  of  death ^  I  will  fear 
no  evil;  fir  thou  art  with  me.  Thy  rod  and  thy  Jlaff  floall comfort  mc. 

III.  This  facramenr  prepares  us  for  a  happy  death,  by  ftrength- 
eriinvr  the  conueclion  between  Chriftians,  and  Chrift  their  Saviour. 
This  is  a  connection  which,  in  various  ways,  redounds  to  their 
benefit  j  and  will  be  found  particularly  confolatory  at  the  hour  of 
death.  The  awful  Majefty  of  Heaven  is  in  danger  of  overwhelm- 
ing; the  niiad  in  the  feeble  moments  of  departing  life.  The  re- 
verence it  infpires  is  mingled  with  fenfations  of  dread,  which  might 
be  too  ftrong  for  us  then  to  bear.  When  we  look  up  to  it, 
through  a  Mediator  and  Intercefror,that  Majefty  alfumes a  milder 
al^Dcd,  and  appears  to  invite  our  approach.  Whatever,  there- 
fore, forms  a  coune^lion  with  this  great  Mediator,  this  powerful 
friend  and  patron  of  the  human  race,  muft  be  moft  defjrable  to 
every  one,  efpecially  to  the  dying  man.  Now,  this  facrament 
unites  us  clofely  with  him.  It  is  the  oath  of  our  allegiance.  It 
is  the  ad  of  inlifting  ourfelves  under  the  banner  of  this  divine 
Leader.  Of  courfe,  it  ftrengthens  our  faith  in  him,  as  our  guide 
through  life,  and  our  guardian  and  protector  in  death.  It  gives 
us  a  title  to  look  up  to  him,  under  the  confidence  of  that  recipro- 
cal ergagement,  which  fidelity  on  the  one  hand  is  always  un» 
derilood  to  imply,  of  proteSion  on  the  other. 

His  participation  of  our  nature  conveys  a  degree  of  encc^irage- 
ment,  which  we  could  derive  from  no  being  altogether  celeRial, 
how  gracious  or  benign  foever.  In  our  utmoft  extremity,  we 
can  have  rccourfe  to  his  fympathizing  aid,  who  had  expCx-ierce 
both  of  the  diftrcfles  of  life,  and  of  the  terrors  of  death.  V/e  be- 
hold, in  tlic  text,  with  what  tirm  tranquillity  he  looked  forward  to 
his  approaching  fufFerings.  Sincere  attachment  to  our  great  Mafier, 
miiy  be  cxpe<^cd  to  infufc  into  us  fome  degree  of  the  fame  happy 
compofuve  of  mind.  It  is  owing  to  our  lofmg  out  of  view  this  pcrfeft 
n)odcl ;  to  our  following  the  crowd,  and  adopting  the  common  fpirit 
of  the  world,  that  we  become  niean-fpirited  and  bafe  %  fervilely  at- 
tached to  life,  and  afraid  to  die.  Did  we,  according  to  our  engage, 
ments  at  the  Lord's  tabic,  keep  our  eye  fixed  on  our  divine  Lead- 
er, 


as  a  Preparatmn  for  Dettth.  279 

»r,  and  attempt  to  follow  his  fteps,  a  portion  of  his  fplrlt  would 
defcend  upon  us  at  the  hour  of  death.  It  would  be  as  the  man- 
tle of  Elijah,  falling  on  a  chofen  difciplc;  and  would  enable  us,  as 
it  did  Elijah  of  old,  to  fmiie,  and  divide  the  waters. — We  believe 
our  Saviour  now  to  rule  in  the  world  of  fpirits.  The  grave, 
therefore,  bars  not  his  followers  from  accefs  to  hioi.  In  the 
grave,  for  our  fake,  he  once  lay  down,  that  he  might  difpel  the 
gloom  which  appears  to  us  to  cover  that  formidable  manfion.  In 
a  Ihort  time  he  arofe  from  it,  in  order  to  alTure  us,  that  the  dark 
and  narrow  houfe  was  not  to  confine  his  followers  for  ever.  Bf 
his  death,  he  conquered  death  ;  and  him  that  had  the  power  of  it  j 
and  his  voice  to  us  is,  Bccaufi  I  live,  ye  /hall  live  alfo.  Hence,  as 
long  as  we  prcferve  that  attachment  to  him  which  we  this  day  pro- 
fefs,  we  are  furniflied  with  a  variety  of  confidcrations  proper, for 
fupporting  us  in  the  profpetS  of  our  dilTolution. — This  leads  me 
to  obferve, 

IV.  That  the  facrament  of  which  we  are  to  partake,  prepares 
us  for  death,  by  confirming  and  enlivening  our  hope  of  immor- 
tality. In  this  facrament,  my  friends,  you  a6t  for  both  worlds. 
As  inhabitants  of  the  earth,  you  are  on  this  day  to  look  forward, 
with  care,  to  your  future  behaviour  in  it.  For  you  arc  not,  by 
any  means,  difcngaging  yourfelvcs  totally  fram  this  life,  and  its 
concerus.  On  the  contrary,  you  are  forming,  and  even  ftrength- 
fining,  thofe  connexions  which  virtue  requires  you  to  maintain 

with  your  friends,  and  tellow-crcatures  around  you» At  the 

fame  time,  you  are  not  to  confider  yourfelvcs  as  citizens  of  this 
earth  only  ;  but  alfo  as  cTTizens  of  heaven.  You  are  to  recognife, 
on  this  occafion,  your  relation  to  a  higher  and  better  country, 
with  which  you  are  connedlcd  by  the  molt  facred  ties  ;  and  from 
which  you  derive  thofe  coniforts  and  hopes,  that  will  both  purify 
your  life,  and  render  your  death  happy.  The  facrament  of  the 
fupper  is,  in  tl^s  view,  an  afcent  of  the  mind  above  terreftrial  things. 
At  the  Lord's  table,  we  aflTociate  ourfelves,  in  fome  degree,  with 
fpirits  of  a  more  exalted  order.  Wc  declare,  that  we  are  tend- 
ing towards  their  focieiy;  and  have  6Kcd  our  final  reft  within  the 
veil.  This  view  of  the  iaftitucion,  fb  comfoi'^table  to  thefaft  pe- 
riod of  lite,  is  plainly  given  us  in  the  words  of  the  text.  For  it 
is  worthy  of  particular  obfervation,  that,  as  foon  as  our  Lord  had 
inftitufed  this  facrament,  he  ftraightway  leads  the  thoughts  of  his 
diftiple;-  to  a  (Lite  of  fuiuff*  exigence.  Employing  that  metapho- 
rical 


tiHo  On  the  Sacrament  of  the  Lor^s  Supper, 

rical  flyl-s,  which  the  occafion  naturally  fuggefted,  he  telfs  them, 
that  though  he  was  not  henceforth  to  drink  of  ihe  fruit  of  the 
vine  on  earth,  yet  a  day  was  coming,  when  hecu'as  again  to  drink 
5l  -with  them  ;  to  drink  it,  in  bis  Facker^s  kingdom.  Two  diftipct  ideas 
are,  in  thefe  vvords,  prefented  to  us.  One  is,  the  abode  into 
which  ©ur  Saviour  was  to  remove;  his  Father^  s  kingdom.  Theo- 
ther,  the  fociety  which  he  was  there  to  enjoy  ;  'jjith  you,  in  my  Fa- 
therms  kingdom.  Thefe  corrcfpond  to  the  two  views,  under  which 
death  is  moft  formidable  to  men  ;  both  of  which  he  intended  to 
banifli,  by  the  inftitution  of  this  facramcnt :  firll,  that  death  is  a 
tranvition  to  a  new  and  unknown  world  ;  and  next,  that  it  is  a  final 
^ieparation  from  all  the  friends  whom  we  have  loved  on  earth. 

First;  if  death  terminates  our  exigence  here,  the  abode  to 
which  it  tranflates  the  faithful  followers  of  Chrift,  is  the  kingdom 
of  his  Father.  The  inftitution  of  this  facrament,  difpels  all  the 
gloomy  ideas  of  annihilation,  of  non-exiftence,  of  total  darknefs, 
•which  our  imagination  is  ready  to  alTociate  with  the  grave.  We 
are  here  alTured,  that,  to  good  men,  death  is  not  the  clofe  of  being, 
but  a  change  of  llate;  a  removal  from  a  diftant  and  obfcure 
province  of  the  univerfe,  into  the  city  of  God,  the  chief  feat  of 
their  Father's  kiugdom.  They  have  every  reafon  to  believe,  thac 
the  objeds  which  are  to  meet  them  there,  how  new  and  unknown 
foever,  Ihall  all  be  propitious  and  friendly.  For  into  the  kingdom 
of  his  Father,  their  Lord  has  declared,  that  he  is  entered  as  their 
Jorerunner.  1  go  to  my  Father,  and  your  Father  s  to  my  Cody  and  your 
Cod.  In  my  Father* s  houfe  are  many  man/tons,  I  go  to  prepare  a 
place  for  you.  I  will  come  again,  and  receive  you  to  myfelf  thai 
ivhere  I  am,  tijere  you  may  be  alfi.  What  reafonings,  what  fpe- 
culations,  can  have  pover  to  impart  {o  much  peace  to  the  dying 
man,  as  a  promife  fo  direct  and  explicit,  coming  from 'him  who 
is  truth  itfelf,  and  cannot  lie  ?  Ij  it  were  notfo,  I  would  have  told  you.  * 
The  profpcd  becomes  Oiil  more  chearing  and  relieving,  when  we 
include, 

Tkh:  other  circumllance  mentioned  in  the  text  ;  the  fociety  to 
be  enjuDyed  in  that  future  ftate  of  being.  With  you,  J Jhall  drink 
of  the  fruit  of  the  vine  in  my  Father^  s  kingdom.  In  how  amiable  a 
light  does  onr  Saviour  here  appear,  looking  forward  to  a  future 
reunion  with  thofe  beloved  friends^  whcm  he  was  now  leaving. 

as 
*  Job  xiv,  2. 


as  a  Vreparai'im  for  Death.  28; 

as  to  a  circumftance  which  fhould  increase  both  his  own  Felicity  and 
theirs,  when  they  met  again  in  a  happier  world  !  I'hus,  in  the 
mod  affeclionate  manner,  cheering  their  drooping  and  dejedled 
fpirits ;  and,  by  a  fimilar  profpecft,  providing  tor  the  comfort  of 
his  followers  in  future  generations,  when  they  Ihould  he  about  to 
leave  the  world. 

The  exprelTions  in  the  text  plainly  fuggeft  a  joyful  intercourfe 
among  friends,  who  had  been  feparated  by  death  :  and  therefore 
feem  to  give  much  confirmation,  to  what  has  always  been  a  favo- 
rite h(5pe  of  good  men  ;  that  friends  Ihali  know  and  recognife  each 
other,  and  renew  their  former  counedions,  in  a  future  fbteof  exif^ 
tence.  How  many  pleaiing  profpects  does  fuch  an  intimation  open 
to  the  mind  !  How  much  does  it  tend  to  compenfate  the  vanity  of 
life,  and  to  mitigate  the  forrows  of  death  I  For  it  is  not  to  be  de- 
nied, that  one  of  the  moft  bitter  circumftances  attending  death,  is 
the  final  feparation  from  beloved  friends.  This  is  apt  equaliy  to 
wring  the  hearts  of  the  dying,  and  thefurviving  ;  and  it  is  an  an- 
guiOi  of  that  fort,  which  defcends  moft  deeply  into  the  virtuous 
and  worthy  bread.  When,  furrounded  with  an  alfedionate  family, 
and  weeping  friends,  a  good  man  is  taking  his  lad  adieu  of  ail 
whom  he  held  moft*dtE'ar  on  earth  ;  when,  with  a  feeble  voice,  he 
is  giving  them  his  bluffing  before  he  leaves  them  for  ever;  when, 
for  the  laft  time,  he  beholds  the  countenance,  he  touches  the 
hand,  he  hears  the  voice,  of  the  perfon  neareft  his  heart ;  who 
could  bear  this  bitternefs  of  grief,  if  no  fupport  were  to  be  mini- 
dered  by  religious  hope  I  If  there  v/ere  no  voice  to  whifper  to  our 
fpiriis  that,  hereafter  we,  and   ihofe  whom  we  love,  ihall  meet 

again  in  a  more  blifsful  land  ? -What  higher  viev/  can  poffibly 

be  given,  of  the  benefit  redounding  from  this  divine  inditution, 
than  its  affording  us  confolation  in  fuch  (ituations  of  extreme  dif- 
trefs)  by  realizing  to  our  fouls  the  belief  of  an  immortal  date,  in 
vi'hich  all  the  virtuous  and  worthy  (hall  be  re-united  in  the  prefence 
of  their  common  Lord  > 

Thus  I  have  fet  before  you  many  confideritions,  arifing  from 
the  facrament  of  our  Lord's  fupper,  which  render  it  a  proper  pre- 
paration, not  only  for  a  good  life,  but  for  a  comfortable  and  hap- 
py death.  The  great  improvement  to  be  made  of  the  fubje*5l  is,  to 
bring  to  the  altar  of  God  fuch  difpofitions  of  hearr,  as  may  give 
us  ground  to  hope  fur  this  bleiTed  effed:.     Let  us  approach  to  the 

facrament 


5  §2  On  ihe  Sacrament  of  the  LoraU  Supper , 

facrament  with  the  fame  ferkmfnefs  of  frame,  as  if  it  were  the 
laft  time  we  were  ever  to  partake  of  it ;  as  if  we  were  now  mak- 
ing provifion  for  a  journey  to  that  land  whence  none  return  ; 
as  if  we  were  never  to  drink,  in  this  manner,  **  of  the  fruit  of  the 
*'  vine,  until  that  dajr  when  we  drink  it,''  with  thofe  whom  we 
have  loved,  "  in  our  Father's  kingdom.'^ — God  only  knows  lo 
whom  this  may  be  truly  fpoken !  God  knows  who,  of  this  alTenibly, 
fliall  never  have  opportunity  to  approach  again  to  the  facred  table, 
and  to  meet  with  their  brethren  on  fuch  an  occafion,  in  the 
courts  of  the  Lord's  houfe! — Whatever  our  doom  is  to  be,  whe. 
iher  we  are  appointed  for  life  or  for  death,  fuch  is  the  frame  of 
mind  which  now  bcft  becomes,  and  will  moft  improve  us,  in  par- 
taking  of  the  holy  facrament. 

Let  me  caution  you,  before  I  conclude,  againft  judging  of  the 
propriety  of  your  difpofiiion  in  this  folemn  ad  of  worfhip,  folely 
by  the  warmth  of  your  affeclions,  and  the  fervour  of  your  devo- 
tion. This  ftate  of  heart,  how  defirable  foever  it  may  be,  can- 
not be  at  all  times  poflelTed,  It  depends,  in  fome  meafure,  on 
natural  fenfibility.  All  are  not  equally  enctovved  wiih  warm  and 
tender  feelings.  Even  they  who  are  fufccptible  of  the  higheft  de- 
grees of  pious  and  virtuous  fenfibility,  cannot,  on  every  occafion, 
command  that  happy  temperature  of  mind.  We  are  not,  therefore, 
to  judge  unfavourably  of  ourfelves,  if  this  be  not  always  the  pri- 
vilege of  our  devotions.  It  ischiefiy  a  fedate  and  compofcd  frame 
of  fpirit,  that  we  muft  ftudy  to  cultivatn ;  arifing  from  grave  and 
fober  thoughts;  from  ferious  and  penitent  recollection  of  pafl  er- 
rors ;  from  good  purpofes  for  the  future ;  and  a  deep  fenfe  of  the 
approaching  events  of  death  and  im.mortaiity.  Penetrated  with 
fuch  difpofitions,  you  have  ground  to  come  to  the  altar  of  God 
with  humble  truft  and  joy ;  under  the  belief  that  you  Pre  approach- 
ing, through  the  great  Redeemer,  to  that  merciful  Creator  to 
whom,  In  ihe  high  and  holy  place  of  eternity ,  the  devout  afpirations 
of  bis  lervants  on  earthy  are  ever  acceptable  and  pleafing. 

S  E  R- 


C    283    ] 
SERMON      XLVI. 

On  the  Use  and  Abuse  of  the  World. 

^-"^-.^s-n- •»"•»•■■«•. 

I    Corinthians  vH.  31. 
They  that  ufe  this  world,  as  not  abitjing  It. . 

THE  world  is  always  reprefentecf  in  Scripture  as  the  great  fcene 
of  trial  to  a  Chriftian.  It  fets  before  him  a  variety  of  du- 
ties, which  are  incumbent  on  him  to  perform  ;  and,  at  the  lame 
time,  furrounds  him  with  many  dangers,  againft  which  he  has  to 
guard.  The  part  which  is  proper  for  him  to  adt,  may  be  com- 
priied  in  thefe  two  expreinve  words  of  the  text;  njing  the  wo?'/d, 
and  not  abujing  it ;  the  fignificancy  and  extent  of  which,  I  purpofe 
now  to  explain.  The  fubjed  is  of  the  higher  importance,  as  in 
the  world  Vv?e  muft  live  ;  and  according  as  we  ufe,  or  abufe  it,  it 
will  prove  either  our  friend,  or  our  greateft  foe. 

It  is  natural  to  begin  with  obferving,  that  theCbriftian  is  here 
fuppofed  to  ufe  the  world;  by  which  we  mud  certainly  underftand 
the  Apoftle  to  mean,  maintaining  intercourfe  and  connection  with 
the  world  ;  living  in  it,  as  one  of  the  members  of  human  fociety; 
alluming  that  rank  which  belongs   to  his  ftaiion.     No  one  can 
be  fiiid  to  ufe  the  world  who  lives  not  thus.    Hence  it  follows,  that 
fequeilration  from  the  world  is  no  part  of  Chriifian  duty  ;  and  it 
appears  ftrange,  that  even  among  thofe  vw'ho  approve  not  of  mo- 
rjailic  confinement,  feclufion  from  the  plealures  of  fociety  fiiould 
have  been  fometimes  confidered,  as  belonging  to  the  charadei  of 
2  reiigious  man.     They  have  been  fuppoled  to  be  the  beft  ier- 
vants  of  God,  who,  conlecrating  their  time  to  the  exercifes  of  de- 
votion, mingle  leaft  in  the  ordinary  comsnerce  of  the  world  ;  and 
efpecially,  who  abftain  moft  rigidly  from  all  that  has  the  appear- 
ance of  amufenient.     But  how  pious  and  fnicere  foever  the  inten- 
tio^ns  of  fuch  perfons  may  be^  they  certainly  take  not  the  proper- 
ly 1  elt 


284  ^«  the  Ufe 

cfl:  method,  either  for  improving  thcmfelves,  or  for  advancing 
religion  among  others.  For  this  is  not  ufing  the  world,  but  re- 
jinquifhing  it.  Inftead  of  making  the  light  of  a  good  example 
iliine  v;ith  ufeful  Iplendor  throughout  the  circle  of  fociety,  they 
confine  it  within  a  narrow  con^pafs.  According  to  the  meta- 
phor employed  by  our  Saviour,  after  the  candle  is  lighted,  they 
put  it  under  a  hufi^el,  Inftead  of  recommending  religion  to  the 
world,  they  exhibit  it  under  the  forbidding  afpecl  of  unnetelTary 
aufterity.  Inftead  of  employing  their  influence,  to  regulate  and 
temper  the  pleafures  of  the  world,  by  a  moderate  participation  of 
thofe  that  are  innocent,  they  deliver  up  all  the  entertainments  of 
fociety,  into  the  hands  of  the  loofe  and  giddy. 

The  various  dangers  which  the  world  prefents  to  one  who  is 
defirpus  of  maintaining  his  piety  and  integrity,  have  given  rife 
to  this  fcrupulous  caution  concerning  the  ufe  of  the  world  ;  and 
lb  far,  the  principle  is  commendable.  But  we  muft  remember, 
that  the  virtue  of  a  Chriftian  is  tobelhown,  in  furmounting  dan- 
gers which  he  is  called  to  encounter.  Into  the  poft  of  danger  we 
were  ordered  by  Providence,  when  we  were  brought  into  this 
-world.  We  were  placed  as  foldiers,  on  the  field  of  battle.  It 
is  there,  that  our  fidelity  to  our  great  Commander  mufl  appear. 
The  mofllignal  virtues  which  adorn  and  improve  the  human  cha- 
radler,  are  difplayed  in  adive  life.  There,  the  ftrength  of  the 
mind  is  brought  forth,  and  put  to  the  teft.  There,  all  the  amia- 
ble difpofitions  of  the  heart  find  their  proper  exercife  :  humani- 
ty is  cultivated  ;  patience,  fortitude,  and  felf-denial,  come  for- 
ward in  all  their  fornis ;  and  the  light  of  good  men's  works  fo 
iliine  before  others,  as  to  lead  them  to  "  glorify  their  Father 
*'  which  is  in   heaven/' 

IT  may  be  afTuFned,  therefore,  as  a  princple  juftified  by  the 
text,  and  by  the  whole  ftrain  of  Scripture,  that  to  vfe,  and  in 
a  certain  degree  to  enjoy,  the  vjorld,  is  altogether  confiftent  with 
religion.  According  to  the  rank  which  men  poflefs  in  fociety, 
according  to  their  age,  their  employment  and  connections,  their 
interconrfc  with  the  world  will  be  more  or  lefs  extended.  In 
private  life,  they  ufe  the  world  with  propriety,  who  are  active 
and  induftrious  in  their  callings ;  juft  and  upright  in  their  deal- 
ings ;  fober,  contented,  and  cheerfu'  in  their  flation.  When  the 
circumftances  of  men  allow  them  a  N\ider  command  of  the  enjoy- 

me  ins 


and  Ahufe  of  the  World.  285 

ments  of  the  world,  of  thofe  enjoyments  they  raay  freely  par- 
take, within  the  bounds  of  temperance,  moderation,  and  decen- 
cy. The  higheft  fituations  of  rank  and  opulence,  ought  to  be 
diftingniflied  by  dignity  of  charafter;  by  cxtenfive  beneficence, 
ufefiilnefs,  and  public  fpirit;  by  magnificence  without  oftenta- 
tion  ;  and  generous  holpitality,  without  profufion. 

We  fliall  have  a  clearer  view  of  the  proper  ufe  of  the  world, 
when  we  contraft  it  with  that  abule  of  the  world,  which  we  too 
often  obferve.  Thofe  abufes  manifeft  themfelves  in  various  forms; 
but  in  general  may  be  clafled  under  three  great  heads. 

I.  They  are  abufers  of  the  world,  who  intemperately  give 
themfelves  up  to  its  pleafures,  and  lead  a  life  of  licentioufnefs, 
riot,  and  diffipation.  Amidft  the  wealth  and  luxury  of  the  pre- 
fent  age,  it  will  be  admitted,  rhat  perfons  of  this  defcription 
are  not  unfrequent,  who,  being  opulent  in  fortune,  and  perhaps 
high  in  rank,  think  themfelves  intitled  to  pafs  their  days  in  a 
carelefs  manner,  without  any  other  object  in  view,  than  the  gra- 
tification of  their  fenfes  and  paflions.  It  (hall  be  granted,  that 
they  are  not  obliged  to  that  exadt  oeconomy  and  attention  in  their 
manner  of  living,  which  the  ftate  of  fortune  may  require  ot 
others.  Gaiety  Ihall  be  permitted  to  them ;  change  of  fcene, 
and  variety  of  amufements.  But  let  them  not  forget,  that  as 
men  and  members  of  fociety,  not  to  fay  profeflbrs  of  the  Chrifti- 
an  faith,  they  are  bound  to  ftop  Ihort  in  their  career  of  pleafure, 
as  foon  as  it  becomes  difgraceful  to  themfelves,  and  hunful  to 
the  world.  By  the  train  of  life  which  they  lead,  they  defeat 
every  parpofe  for  which  Providence  beffowed  on  them  the  blefC- 
ings  of  prolperity.  They  fink  every  talent  which  they  poflefs, 
into  ufelefs  infignificancy.  They  corrupt  the  public  manners  by 
their  example  ;  and  difFufe  among  others  the  fpirit  of  extrava- 
gance and  folly.  They  behave  in  a  manner  altogether  unfuitable 
to  the  condition  of  the  v/orld  in  which  we  live ;  where  we  are 
expofed  to  fo  much  change,  furrounded  v/ith  fo  much  diftrefs^ 
and  daily  behold  fo  many  affeding  fcenes,  as  ought  to  awaken 
ferious  reflection,  and  chaften  difiblute  mirths 

With  indignant  eyes,  the  fober  and  thinking  part  of  man- 
kind, view  the  luxury  and  riot  of  thofe  abufers  of  the  world. 
To  them  are  owing  the  difcontents  of  the  poor,  their  difaffedion  to 
their  luperiors,  their  pronenefs  to  difturb  the  peace  of  the  world. 

When 


286  On  the  Ufe 

When  the  poor  behold  v/ealth  proper!}'  iifcd,  they  look  up  with 
refpect  to  them  who  poiTefs  it.  They  reft  contented  in  their  fta- 
£ion  ;  and  blefs  the  juft  and  the  generous,  from  whole  munifi- 
cence they  receive  employment  and  reward.  But  when  they  be- 
hold thofe  men  of  pleafure,  diflipating,  in  vice  and  folly,  the 
fortune  which  their  forefathers  had  honorably  earned ;  when 
they  behold  them  opprefling  all  their  dependents,  merely  that 
they  may  revel  in  luxurious  extravagance,  then  their  hearts  fweil 
within  them  ;  with  murmurs  of  fuHen  grief,  they  eye  their  own 
mean  habitation,  and  needy  family  ;  and  become  prepared  for 
robbery,  tumult,  fedition  and  every  evil  work. 

The  conduct  of  fuch  abufers  of  the  world,  is  not  only  perni- 
cious to  the  welfare  of  fcciety,  and  to  the  interefts  of  virtue;  it 
is  equally  ruinous  to  tbemfelves.  I  fliall  not  infiit  on  the  lofs  of 
reputation,  the  wafte  of  fortune;  the  broken  health,  and  debili- 
tated frame,  which  are  the  well-known  confequences  of  a  life  of 
iniempcrate  pleafure.  I  fliall  not  recount  all  the  better  and 
more  fub{l:;ntial  er-joyments  which  they  forfeit.  Amidft  the  tur- 
bulence of  riot,  and  the  fumes  of  intoxication,  unknown  to  them 
are  the  rational  entertainments  of  regular  life;  the  enjoyment 
of  the  face  of  nature  ;  the  pleafures  of  knowledge,  and  an  im- 
proved mind ;  the  pleafures  of  private  friendfnip,  and  domeftic 
Ibciety  ;  the  confcious  fa/isfadion  which  accompanies  honourable 
labours,  and  the  juRly  acquired  efteem  of  ihofe  who  furround 
them.  All  thefe  they  have  thrown  away  ;  and  in  their  room 
have  fubftituted,  what  they  think  ujore  high  and  vivid  pleafures. 
But  of  what  nature  are  thofe  pleafures  ?  Even  in  laughter  the  heart 
is  Jorrowjul;  and  the  end  of  that  mirth  is  heavine/r* 

At  the  bottom  of  the  hearts  of  all  men,  there  lies  a  fecret 
fenfe  of  propriety,  virtue,  and  honour.  This  ieni't  niay  be  fo 
far  blunted,  as  to  loofe  its  influence  in  guiding  men  to  what  is 
right,  while  yet  it  retains  its  power  of  making  them  feel  that  tliey 
are  ading  wrong.  Hence  remorfe  often  knaws  the  heart,  which 
afR-c^s  to  appear  light  and  gay  before  the  world.  Among  the 
croud  of  amufements,  the  voluptuary  may  endeavour  to  ftifle  his 
uneafiiiefs;  but  through  all  his  defences  it  will  penetrate.  A 
confeious  fenie  of  his  own  infignificance,  when  he  lees  others  di!- 
tinguifhed  for  acting  a  manly  and  worthy  part ;  refieflion  on  the 

time 
*  proverbs  xiv.  12. 


and  Jbufe  of  ike  World,  2S7 

time  he  has  waifted,  and  the  contempt  he  has  incurred;  tlie  gall- 
ing remembrance  of  his  earlier  and  better  days,  when  he  gave 
the  fair  promife  of  accomplifhments,  which  now  are  blalled,  have 
frequently  been  found  to  fadden  the  feilive  hour.  The  noife  of 
merriment  n)ay  be  heard  ;  but  heavinefs  lies  at  the  heart.  While 
the  t  ibret  and  the  viol  play,  a  melancholy  voice  founds  in  his  ears. 
The  wafted  eftae,  the  negle^ied  halls,  and  ruined  manfion  of 
his  fathers,  rife  to  view.  I'he  angry  countenances  of  his  friends, 
feem  to  ilare  him  in  the  face.  A  hand  appears  to  come  forth  on 
the  wall,  and  to  write  his  doom. 

Kktrf;at,  the  1,  from  your  difhonourable  courfes,  ye  who  by 
licentiouinefs,  extravagance,  and  vice,  are  abufers  of  the  v^orld! 
You  are  degraduig,  you  are  ruining  yourfelves.  You  are  groiily 
mifemploying  the  gifts  of  God  ;  and  the  Giver  will  not  fail  to  pu- 
nilh.  A  wake  to  the  purfuits  of  men  of  virtue,  and  honour.  Break 
loofe  from  that  magi;^  circle,  within  which  you  are  at  prefent 
held.  Rejed  the  poifoned  cup  which  the  enchantrefs  Pleafure 
holds  up  to  your  lips.  Draw  afide  the  veil  which  llie  throws  over 
your  eyes.  You  will  then  fee  other  objects  than  you  now  behold. 
You  will  fee  a  dark  abyfs  opening  below  your  feet.  You  will 
fee  virtue  and  teaiperance  marking  out  the  road,  v/hich  conducts 
to  true  felicity.  You  will  be  enabled  to  difcern,  that  the  world 
is  enjoyed  to  advantage  by  none  but  fuch  as  follow  thofe  divine 
guides  ;  and  who  confider  pleaiure  as  the  feafoning,  but  not  as  the 
bufinefs,  of  life. 

II.  The  world  is  abufed,  not  only  by  an  intemperate  pur- 
fuit  of  its  pleafures,  but  by  a  fordid  attachment  to  its  gains.  This 
refpects  a  fet  of  men  of  very  different  defcription  from  the  former ; 
more  decent  in  their  carriage,  and  lels  flagrant  in  their  vices ;  but 
corrupted  by  the  v/orld  in  no  lefs  a  degree.  For  the  world  is  oft- 
en abufed  by  the  men  of  bulinefs,  as  much  as  by  the  men  of  plea- 
fure. When  worldly  fuccefs  becomes  the  fole  object  of  their 
life  ;  when  the  accumulation  of  fortune  fo  engrofTes  them,  as  to 
harden  their  heart  againffc  every  feeling  of  moral  obligation; 
when  it  renders  them  infenfible  to  the  calls  of  affection,  and  to 
the  impreiTions  of  piety  and  religion ;  they  then  come  under  the 
clafs  of  the  covetous,  whom,  it  is  faid,  the  Lord  abhor  ret  h.-\ 

The  world,  with  its  advantages^  is  a  lawful  objecf  of  purfuit 

to 

t  Pjalm  X.  3, 


288  CnikeUfe 

to  a  Chridian.  He  may  feek,  by  fair  indullry,  to  render  his  cir- 
cumfhnces  affluent.  Without  reproof,  he  may  aim  at  dirdndion 
and  confideration  in  the  world.  He  may  beftow  a  confiderablo 
portion  of  his  time  and  attention,  on  the  fuccefsful  management 
of  his  worldly  interefts.  All  this  is  within  the  limits  of  that  al- 
lowable ufe  of  the  world,  to  which  religion  gives  its  fandtion. 
But  to  a  wife  and  good  man,  the  vvorld  is  only  a  fecondary  ob- 
jecl.  He  remembers  there  is  an  eternity  beyond  it.  His  care  is, 
not  merely  to  amafs  and  pofl'e fs,  but  to  ufe  his  pofFeflions  well,  as  one 
who  is  accountable  to  God,  He  is  not  a  (lave,  either  to  the  hopes, 
or  the  fears  of  the  world.  He  would  rather  forfeit  any  prefent 
advantage,  than  obtain  it  at  the  expenie  of  violating  the  divine 
law,  or  negledling  his  duty.  This  is  ufing  the  world  like  a  good 
man.  This  is  living  in  it,  as  a  fubjed  of  God,  and  a  member  of 
the  great  community  of  mankind.  'J  o  fuch  a  man,  riches  are  a 
bleffing.  He  may  enjoy  them  with  magnificence  ;  but  he  will  ufe 
them  with  liberality.  They  open  a  wide  field  to  the  exercife  of 
his  virtue,  and  allow  it  to  fiiine  with  difFufiive  iuHre. 

Very  oppofite  to  this,  is  the  charader  of  the  worldly-minded. 
To  them,  the  mere  attainment  of  earthly  pofleffions,  is  an  ulti- 
mate aim.  They  cannot  be  faid  to  ufe  the  world;  for  to  poflefs, 
not  to  ufe  or  enjoy,  is  their  object.  They  are  emphatically  faid 
in  Scripture,  to  had  themfelves  luith  thick  clay.X  Some  fort  of  a- 
pology  may  be  framed  for  them  who  feek  to  extract  from  the 
vvorld,  pleafure  of  one  kind  or  other.  But  for  thofe  who  know 
no  pleafure,  farther  than  add'wg  houfs  to  houje,  and  field  to  field,  and. 
calling  them  their  own,  it  is  hardly  poflible  to  frame  any  apology. 
Such  perfons  are  idolaters  of  the  worft  kind  ;  for  they  have  made 
the  world  their  God.  They  daily  worflfip  and  bow  down  be- 
fore it;  and  hold  nothing  to  be  mean  or  bafe,  which  can  pro- 
mote the  enhiriienient  of  their  fortune. — He  is  an  abufer  of  the 
world,  let  \\\s  poffellion  of  it  be  ever  fo  ample,  who  knows  nothing 
higher  tlinn  the  gains  of  the  world.  He  is  an  abufer  of  the  world, 
who  fatrifices  probity,  virtue,  or  humanity,  to  its  interefts.  He 
is  an  abufer  ot  tiie  v,-orld,  who  cannot  occafionally  retreat  from, 
it,  to  coiifider  what  charader  he  bears  in  the  fight  of  God  ;  and 
to  wliar  idue  his  co.  duel  will  bring  him  at  laft.  In  a  word,  the 
world  is  then  properly  ufcd,  when  it  is  genercufly  and  beuGficent- 
ly  enjoyed;  neither  hoarded  up  by  avarice,  nor  fquandered  by 
odentation,  HI. 

X  Hahakuk  ii,  6. 


and  Ahujc  o/"  the  World,  289 

III.  The  world  is  abufed,  by  thofe  who  employ  its  advantages 
to  the  injury  or  opprellion  of  tiieir  bretliren.  Under  this  clafs 
are  included,  the  worft  and  mol'l  criminal  abuiVrs  of  the  world  j  who 
turn  againft  their  fellow-creatures,  thole  advantages  with  which 
it  has  pleafed  Heaven  to  diliinguifli  them.  It  is  a  clafs  which 
comprehends,  the  fovcreign  who  tyrannifes  over  his  people  ;  the 
great  man  who  opprefTes  his  dependents ;  the  mafter  who  is  cruel 
to  his  fervants;  every  one,  in  fine,  who  renders  his  fuperiority 
of  any  kind,  whether  of  wealth  or  power,  unnecelTarily  grievous 
to  thofe  who  are  his  inferiors :  Whofe  fupercilioufncfs  dejects  the 
modeft;  whofe  infolence  tramples  on  the  poor  ;  whofe  rigour 
makes  the  widow  and  the  orphan  weep.  Pcrfons  of  this  charac- 
ter, while  thus  abufmg  the  advantages  oF  the  world,  may,  for  a 
while,  enjoy  their  triumph.  But  let  them  not  think  their  tri- 
umph is  always  to  laft.  Their  turn  fhall  come  to  be  humbled 
as  low  as  thofe  whom  they  now  opprefs.  For  there  is  a  vigilant 
eye  in  the  heavens,  attentive  to  obferve  their  procedure.  There 
is  an  impartial  ear,  which  liftens  to  every  juff  complaint  prefer- 
red againd  them.  There  is  an  irrefidible  arm  itretched  over  their 
heads,  whofe  weight  they  fhall  one  day  feel.  The  Sovereign  of 
the  univerfe  charaderifes  himfelf  in  thefacred  writings,  as  peculi- 
arly an  adverlary  to  the  infolent  and  haughty.  "  For  the  op- 
*'  preflion  of  the  poor,  for  the  fighing  of  the  needy,  now  will  I 
<^  arife,  faith  the  Lord  ;  I  will  fet  him  in  fafery  from  him  that 
^'  pufFeth  at  him.f  I  will  come  near  to  you  in  judgment;  and 
*^  1  will  be  a  fwift  witnefs  againft  thofe  who  opprefs  the  hireling 
'^  in  his  wages,  the  widow,  and  the  fatherlefs,  and  that  turn  afide 
'*  the  ftranger  from  his  right.:}:  He  that  opprelTeth  the  poor,  re- 
"  proacheth  his  Maker  §  The  Lord  will  plead  their  caufe;  and 
"  fpoil  the  foul  of  thofe  that  fpoiled  them,"|| 

After  hearing  thefe  awful  words,  is  it  not  ftrange,  O  men, 
at  onee  infatuated  and  cruel!  that  you  cannot  ufe  the  world 
without  abufmg  it,  to  the  diftrefs  af  your  brethren  I  Even  fup- 
pofmg  no  punifhment  to  be  threatened,  no  arm  to  be  lifted  up  a- 
gainft  you,  is  there  nothing  within  you,  that  relents  at  the  cir- 
cumftances  of  thofe  below  you  in  the  world  ?  Is  it  not  enough, 
that  they  fufFer  their  own  hard  fate,  without  its  being  aggravat- 
ed by  your  feverity  and  oppreflion?    Why  muft  the  aged,  the 

poor, 
t  T^fdm  xii.  5.   :f  MaU  iii,  5.    J  FrQv^  xiv.  31.    U  Prov?  x:gi,  23. 


^go  On  the  Ufe 

poor,  and  the  friendlefs,  tremble  at  your  greatnefs?  Cannot  yon 

be  happy,  unlefs  you  make  them  eat  their  fcanty  morfel  in  bitter- 

nels  of  heart  ? You  happy  !  profane  not  the  word — what  is  fuch 

happinefs  as  yours,  compared  with  that  of  him  who  could  fay, 
'^  when  the  ear  heard  me,  then  it  blefled  me  ;  and  when  the  eye 
'^  faw  me,  it  gave  witnefs  ro  me;  becaufe  i  delivered  the  poor 
^^  that  cried,  and  the  fatherlefs,  and  him  that  had  none  to  help 
*'  him.  I  was  a  father  to  the  poor.  The  blelilng  of  him  that 
^'  was  ready  to  periiii,  came  upon  me  ;  and  I  caufed  ihe  widow's 
'*  heart  to  fing  for  joy,''*  How  properly  did  fuch  -i  man  u/e  the 
world,  and  with  what  juft  honour  did  he  flourifli  in  it !  '*  Unto  me 
*'  men  gave  ear;  they  kept  filence,  and  waited  for  my  cnunfei. 
"  The  princes  refrained  talking.  The  aged  aroie,  and  itood  up, 
«^  Pvly  root  wasfpread  out  by  the  v/aters ;   and  the  dew  lay  upon 

'^  my  branch." Not  only  unknown  to  you  are  fuch  pleafures 

of  vtrtuous  profperity ;  but,  even  previous  to  prepared  puniih- 
ment,  be  alFured,  that  remorfe  is  approaching  to  wring  your 
hearts.  Of  the  world,  which  you  now  abule,  in  a  flicrt  time 
nothing  fhall  remain  but  the  horror  arifmg  from  remembered 
crimes.  The  wages  you  have  detained,  the  wealth  you  have 
fqueezed  from  the  needy,  fliall  lie  heavy  on  your  fouls.  The 
ftately  buildings  which  your  pride  has  erected,  by  means  of  vio- 
lence and  oppreiT.on,  ihali  feem  haunted  by  injured  gholls. 
^'  The  Itone  ihall  cry  cut  of  the  wall  ;  and  the  beam  out  of  the 
<*  timber  fhall  anfwer  it.''"f  When  you  lie  on  the  bed  of  death, 
the  poor,  whom  you  have  oppreffed,  imW  appear  to  you,  as  ga- 
thered together  ;  iilretching  forth  their  hands,  and  lifting  up  their 
voices  againft  you,  at  the  tribunal  of  Keaven.  *'  1  have  ken 
<*  the  wicked  great  in  power,  and  fpreading  iiimfelf  like  a  green 
«  bay. tree.  But  he  paffed  away,  and  was  not.  I  fought  Inm, 
<'  but  he  could  not  be  found.  They  are  brought  down  to  defola- 
**  tion  in  a  moment,  and  utier'y  confumed  with  terrors.  As  a  dream 
**  when  one  awaketh,  ^o,  O  Lord,  when  thou  awakelt,  ihou 
<*  fhalt  defpife  their  im.age.''.t 

Thus  I  have  fliown  what  it  is  to  iif:^  and  what  to  ahuje  the  world. 
When  according  to  our  different  ftations,  we  enjoy  the  advantag- 
es of  the  world  with  propriety  and  decency  ;   temperate    in    our 

pleafures  5 
*  Jo/;  xxix.   II. — 1 6.         I  HahaL  ii.    II, 
%  Pfalm  Ixxvii,  35,  Ixxiii.  19. 


and  Ahufe  of  the  JVorld,  291 

pleafures  ;  moderate  in  our  puriuits  of  intereft ;  mindful  of  our 
duty  to  God,  and,  at  the  fame  time,  juft,  humane,  and  generous 
to  our  brethren  ;  then,  and  then  only,  we  ufe  the  world,  as  be- 
come men,  and  Chriftians,  Within  thefe  limits,  we  may  fafc- 
ly  enjoy  all  the  comforts  which  the  world  affords,  and  our  ftation 
cllows.  But  if  we  pafs  beyond  thefe  boundaries,  into  the  regions 
of  diforderly  and  vicious  pleafure,  of  debafing  covetoufnefs, 
or  of  oppreflTive  infolence,  the  world  will  then  ferve  only  to  cor- 
rupt our  minds,  and  to  accelerate  our  ruin.  The  licentious,  the 
avaricious,  and  the  infolent,  form  the  three  great  clafles  of  abufers 
of  the  world. 

Lf,t  not  thofe  who  are  in  wealthy  and  flourifliing  circumftanc- 
es,  complain  of  the  reftraints  which  religious  dodrines  attempt 
to  iajpofe  on  their  enjoyments.  For,  to  what  do  thefe  redraints 
amount  ?  To  no  more  than  this,  that,,  by  their  pleafures,  they 
would  neither  injure  themf?lves,  nor  injure  others.  We  call  not 
on  ihe  young,  to  relinqui/h  their  gaiety  ;  nor  on  the  rich,  to  fore- 
go their  opulence;  nor  on  the  great,  to  lay  afide  their  ftate.  We 
only  cali  on  them,  not  to  convert  gaiety  into  licentioufneis ;  not  to 
employ  opulence  in  mere  extravagance  ;  nor  to  abnfe  greatnefs 
for  the  opprefTion  of  their  inferiors:  While  they  enjoy  the  world, 
not  to  forget  that  they  are  the  fuhjec^s  of  God,  and  are  foon  to 
pafs  into  another  ftate.  Let  the  motive  by  which  the  Apoftie  en- 
forces the  exhortation  in  the  text,  prefent  itfelf  to  their  thought; 
Ufe  this  world  as  mt  ahufmg  it;  for  the  jafnon  of  the  world  paffeth 
away.  Its  pomp  and  its  pleafures,  its  riches,  magnificence,  and 
glory,  are  no  more  than  a  tranfient  fhow.  Every  thing  that  we 
here  enjoy,  changes,  decays,  and  comes  to  an  end*  All  floats 
on  the  furface  cf  a  river,  which,  Vv'ith  fwift  current,  is  running 
towards  a  boundlefs  ocean.  Beyond  this  prefent  fcene  of  things, 
above  thefe  fublunary  regions,  we  are  to  look  for  what  is  perma- 
nent and  ftable.  The  world  paiTes  away  ;  but  God,  and  heaven, 
atid  virtue,  continue  unchangeably  the  fame.  We  are  foon  to 
enter  into  eternal  habitations  :  and  into  thefe,  cur  works  fhall 
follow  us.  The  confequecces  (IrAl  forever  remain  of  the  part 
which  we  have  acled  as  good,  or  bad  men ;  as  faithful  iubjedls  of 
God,    or  as  fervants  cf  a  vain  world. 

M  in  S  E  R. 


SERMON       XLVII. 

On  Extremes  in  Religious  and  Moral  Con- 
duct. 

Proverbs  iv.  17, 
Turn  not  U  the  right  hand,  nor  to  the  left, — — 

I  WILL  hehtrue  myfeJfvjifely,  faid  the  Pfalmift  David,  k  a  per* 
fe^  way.*  Wifdoni  is  no  lefs  neccflary  in  religious  and  moral, 
than  in  civil  condud.  Unlefs  there  be  a  proper  degree  of  light 
in  the  underftanding,  it  will  not  be  enough,  that  there  are  good 
difpofitions  in  the  heart.  Without  regular  guidance,  they  will 
often  err  from  the  right  fcope.  They  will  be  always  wavering 
and  unfteady ;  nay,  on  fome  occafions,  they  may  betray  us  into 
evil.  This  is  too  much  verified  by  that  propenfity  to  run  into  ex- 
tremes, which  fo  often  appears  in  the  behaviour  of  men.  How 
many  have  originally  fet  out  with  good  principles  and  intentions^ 
\vho,  through  want  of  difcretion  in  the  application  of  their  prin- 
ciples, have  in  the  end  injured  themfelves,  and  brought  difcrcdit 
on  religion  ?  There  is  a  certain  temperate  mean,  in  the  obfervance 
of  which,  piety  and  virtue  confill.  On  each  fide  there  lies  a  dan* 
gerous  extreme.  Bewildering  paths  open  ;  by  deviating  into 
^hich,  men  are  apt  to  forfeit  all  the  praife  of  their  good  intentions ; 
and  to  finifh  with  reproach  what  they  had  begun  with  honour, 
T  his  is  the  ground  of  the  wife  man's  exhortation  in  the  text. 
I^et  thine  eyes  look  right  on,  and  let  thine  eyt'Uds  lookjlraight  before 
ihee.  Pander  the  path  of  thy  feet,  and  let  all  thy  ways  be  efiahlifh. 
ed.  Turn  not  to  the  right  handy  nor  to  the  left ;  remove  thy  foot  from 
evil.  In  difcourfmg  from  thefe  words,  I  purpofe  to  point  out 
fome  of  the  extremes  into  which  meir  are  apt  to  run  in  religion 
and  morals ;  and  to  fuggeft  diredions  for  guarding  againft  them. 

With 
*  Pfulm  ci.  2«^ 


On  Extremes,  &c.  193 

With  regard  to  religious  principles  in  genera),  it  may  perhaps 
be  expected,  that  I  fliould  warn  you  of  the  danger  of  being,  on 
one  hand,  too  rigid  in  adhering  to  it  ;  and,  on  the  other  hand, 
loo  eafy  in  relaxing  it.  But  the  diftindion  between  thefe  fuppof- 
ed  extremes,  I  conceive  to  have  no  foundation.  No  man  can 
be  too  ftridt  in  his  adherence  to  a  principle  of  duty.  Here,  there 
is  no  extreme.  All  relaxation  of  principle,  is  criminal.  What 
confcience  didlates,  is  to  be  ever  obeyed.  Its  commands  are  iini- 
verfally  facred.  Even  though  it  fliould  be  mifled,  yet,  as  long 
as  we  conceive  it  to  utter  the  voice  of  God,  in  difobeying  it  we 
fin.  The  error,  therefore,  to  be  here  avoided  is,  not  too  fcru- 
pulous  or  tender  regard  to  confcience,  but  too  little  care  to  have 
confcience  properly  enlightened,  with  refpedt  to  what  is  matter 
of  duty  and  of  fin. — -Receive  not,  without  examination,  whatever 
human  tradition  has  confecrated  as  facred.  Recur,  on  every  oc- 
cafion,  to  thofe  great  fountains  of  light  and  knowledge,  which  are 
opened  to  you  in  the  pure  word  of  God.  Diftinguilh,  with  care, 
between  the  fupcrftitious  fancies  of  men,  and  the  everlafting 
commandments  of  God.  Exhauft  not  on  trifles  that  zeal,  which 
ougbt  to  be  refcrved  for  the  weightier  matters  of  the  law.  Over- 
load not  confcience,  with  what  is  frivilous  and  unnecefTary.  BuE 
when  you  have  once  drawn  the  line,  with  intelligence  and  preci- 
fion,  between  duty  and  fin,  that  line  you  ought  on  no  occafion 
to  tranlgrcfs. 

Though  there  is  no  extreme  in  the  reverence  due  to  confci* 
ence,  there  may  undoubtedly  be  an  extreme  in  laying  too  much 
ftrcfs,  either  on  mere  principle,  or  on  mere  practice.  Here  we 
muft  take  particular  care,  not  to  turn  to  the  right  band,  nor  to  the 
left ;  but  to  hold  faith  and  a  good  confcience  united,  as  the  Scripture, 
v;ith  great  proriety,  exhorts  us.*  The  error  of  refting  wholly  on 
faith,  or  wholly  on  works,  is  one  of  thofe  fcdudions,  which  moft 
eafily  miflead  men ;  under  the  femblance  of  piety  on  the  one 
hand,  and  of  virtue  on  the  other.  This  is  not  an  error  peculiar 
to  our  times.  It  has  obtained  in  every  age  of  the  Chriftian 
church.  It  has  run  through  all  the  different  modes  of  falfe  re- 
ligion. It  forms  the  chief  diftindlion  of  all  the  various  feds  which 
have  divided,  and  which  ftill  continue  to  divide  the  chuixh ;  ac- 
cording 
*  I  Tim,  i,   19. 


294  ^^  Extremes  in 

cording  as  they  feave  leaned  mod  to  the  fide  of  belief,  cr  to  the 

lide  of  morality. 

Did  we  lifcen  candidly  to  the  voice  of  Scripture,  it  would 
guard  us  agaiiill  eitlier  extrense.  1  he  Apoftle  Paul  every  where 
teflifies,  that  by  no  vvorki,  of  our  own,  we  can  be  juftified  ;  and 
that,  without  Jahh  it  is  impnjjible  to  pleafe  God.  The  Apoft'e 
James  as  clearly  fhows,  that  faith,  if  it  be  unproductive  of  good 
works,  juflirie:j  no  man.  Between  thofe  fentiinents,  there  is  no 
oppofition.  Faith,  without  works,  is  nugatory  and  infignificant. 
It  is  a  foundation,  without  any  fuperftru6ture  raifed  upon  it.  It 
is  a  fountain,  which  fends  forth  no  ftream  ;  a  tree,  which  neither 
bears  fruit,  nor  affords  (hade.  Good  works,  again,  without  good 
principles,  are  a  fair,  but  airy  ftruclure;  without  firmnefs  or  fta- 
bility.  They  refemble  the  houfe  built  on  the  fand  ;  the  reed 
which  Ihakes  with  every  wind.  You  niuft  join  the  two  in  full 
union,  if  you  would  exhibit  the  character  of  a  real  Chriftian. 
Ke  vi'ho  fets  faith  in  oppofition  to  morals,  or  morals  in  oppofition 
to  faith,  is  equally  an  enemy  to  the  interefls  of  religion.  Jle  holcis 
up  to  view  an  imperfed  and  disfigured  form  ;  in  the  room  of 
what  ought  to  command  refped  from  all  beholders.  By  leaning 
to  one  extreme,  he  is  in  danger  of  falling  into  vice  ;  by  the  other, 
of  running  into  impiety. 

WHATb:vER.  the  belief  of  men  be,  they  generally  pride  them^ 
felves  in  the  pofleflion  cf  fome  good  moral  qualities.  The  ienfe 
of  duty  is  deeply  rooted  in  the  human  heart.  Without  iovr.e 
pretence  to  virtue,  there  is  no  felf-efteem  ;  and  no  man  willies 
to  appear  in  his  own  view,  as  entirely  worthlefs.  But  as  there 
is  a  conftant  flrife  between  the  lower  and  higher  parts  of  our  na- 
ture, between  inclination  and  principle,  this  produces  muchcon- 
tradi61ion  and  inconfiltency  in  condudf.  Hence  arife  melt  of  the 
extremes  into  which  men  run  in  their  moral  behaviour  ;  refting 
their  whole  worth  on  that  good  quality,  to  which,  by  conflitu- 
tion  or  temper,  they  are  molt  inclined. 

One  of  the  firft  and  moft  common  of  thofe  extremes,  is,  that 
of  placing  all  virtue,  either  in  juftice,  on  the  one  band  ;  or  in 
gene.'-ofity,  on  the  other.  The  oppofition  between  theie,  is 
moil  difcernabk  among  two  difTcrcnt  clafles  of  men  in  fociety. 

They 


Religious  and  Moral  Conclu^.  295 

They  who  have  earned  their  fortune  by  a  laborious  and  induQri- 
ous  life,  are  naturally  tenacious  of  wl.at  they  have  painfully  ac- 
quired. To  juftice,  they  confider  themfelves  as  obliged  ;  but  to 
go  beyond  it  in  acts  of  kindnefs,  they  confider  as  fuptrlluous  and 
extra vagant.  They  will  not  take  any  advantage  of  others, 
which  confcience  tells  them  is  iniquitous  ;  but  neither  will  they 
make  any  allovv-ance  for  their  necellities  and  wants.  They  con- 
tend, with  rigorous  exaclnefs,  for  what  is  due  to  themfelves. 
They  are  fatibfied,  if  no  man  fuffer  unjuflly  by  them.  That  no 
one  is  benefited  by  thein^  gives  them  little  concern, An- 
other fet  of  men  place  their  whole  merit  in  generofity  and  mer- 
cy ;  while  tojullice  and  integrity  they  pay  fmall  regard,  Thefe 
are  perfons  generally  of  hivrher  rauk,  and  of  eafy  fortune.  To 
them,  jullice  appears  a  fort  of  vulgar  virtue,  requilite  chiefly  in 
the  petty  tranfadtions,  which  thofe  of  inferior  ftation  carry  on 
witii  one  another.  But  humanity  and  liberality,  they  confider  as 
more  refined  virtues^  which  dignify  their  character,  and  cover 
all  their  failings.  They  can  relent  at  reprefentations  of  diflrefs; 
can  beftow  with  oftentatious  generofity ;  can  even  occafionally 
(hare  their  wealth  vviih  a  companion  of  whom  they  are  fond  ; 
while,  at  the  fame  time,  they  withhold  from  others  what  is  due 
to  them  ;  are  negligent  of  their  family  and  their  relations;  and 
to  the  juil  demands  of  their  creditors  give  no  attention. 

Both  thefe  dalles  of  men  run  to  a  faulty  extreme.  They  di- 
vide n)oral  virtue  between  them.  Each  takes  that  part  of  it  only 
which  fuits  his  temper.  V/ithout  juiiice,  there  is  no  virtue.  But 
without  huiuanity  and  mercy,  no  virtuous  character  is  complete^ 
The  one  man  leans  to  the  extreme  of  parfimony.  The  other,  to 
that  of  profufion.  The  temper  of  the  one  is  unfeeling.  The 
fenfibiiity  of  the  other  h  thoughtlels.  The  one  you  may  in 
fome  degree  refped ;  but  you  cannot  love.  The  other  may 
be  loved  ;  but  cannot  he  refpe^led  :  and  it  is  difficult  to  fay,  which 
chciracler  is  moft  defective. -—We  mud  undoubtedly  begin  with 
being  ]vS\.,  before  we  attempt  to  be  generous.  At  the  fame 
time,  he  who  goes  no  farther  than  bare  juflice,  ftops  at  the  begin- 
ning of  virtue.  We  are  comoianded  to  do  jujily ;  but  to  love  mercy\ 
The  one  virtue,  regulates  our  actions.  The  other,  improves 
our  heart  and  aiFedions.     Each  is  equally  neceffary  to  the  hap- 

pinefs 


"29^  On  Extremes  In 

pinefs  of  the  world.  Juftice  is  the  pillar,  that  upholds  the  whole 
fabric  of  human  fociety.  Mercy  is  the  genial  ray,  which  cheers 
and  warms  the  habitations  of  men.  The  perfedion  of  our  fecial 
charafter  confifts,  in  properly  tempering  the  two  with  one  ano- 
ther ;  in  holding  that  middle  courfe,  which  admits  of  our  being 
juft,  without  being  rigid  ;  and  allows  us  to  be  generous,  without 
being  unjuft. 

We  mud  next  gUard  againft  either  too  great  fcveriry,  or  too 
great  facility  of  manners.  Thefe  are  extremes,  of  which  we 
every  day  behold  inftances  in  the  world.  He  who  leans  to  the 
fide  of  leverity,  is  harfh  in  his  cenfures,  and  narrow  in  his  opi* 
ens.  He  cannot  condefcend  to  others  in  things  indifferent.  He 
has  no  allowance  to  make  for  human  frailty ;  or  for  the  difference 
of  age,  rank,  or  temper,  among  mankind.  With  him,  all  gaiety 
is  finful  levity  ;  and  every  amufcment  is  a  crime.  To  this  ex^ 
treme,  the  admonition  of  Solon)on  may  be  underllood  to  belong; 
Be  not  righteous  over  much-,  neither  make  thyfelf  overw'ife»  Why 
Jfl:Qulc(f}  thou  dejlroy  thyfelj P*  When  this  feverity  of  manners  is 
hypocritical,  and  afTumed  as  a  cloak  to  fccret  indulgence,  it  is 
one  of  the  worft:  prollitutions  of  religion.  But  I  now  confider 
ir,  not  as  the  cflTeft  of  deHgn,  but  of  natural  aufterity  of  temper, 
and  of  contraded  maxims  of  conduft.  Its  influence  upon  the 
perfon  himfelf,  is  to  render  him  gloomy  and  four ;  upon  others,^ 
to  alienate  them  both  from  his  fociety,  and  his  counfels ;  upon  re- 
ligion, to  fet  it  forth  as  a  niorofe  and  forbidding  principle. 

The  oppofite  extreme  to  this  is,  perhaps,,  ftill  more  dangerous; 
that  of  too  great  facility,  and  accommodation  to  the  ways  of 
others.  The  man  of  this  charader,  partly  from  indolent  weak- 
nefs,  and  partly  from  foftnefs  of  temper,  is  difpofed  to  a  tame 
and  univerfal  alTent.  Averle  either  to  contradict  or  to  blame,  he 
goes  along  with  the  manners  that  prevail.  He  views  every  cha- 
rafter  with  indulgent  eye ;  and  with  good  difpofitions  in  his 
breafl,  and  a  natural  relu6lance  to  profligacy  and  vice,  he  is  entic- 
ed to  the  commiilion  of  evils  which  he  condemns,  merely  through 
want  of  fortitude  to  oppofc  others. 

Nothing,  it  muft  be  confefled,  in  moral  condudl,  is  more 
difficult,  than  to  avoid  turning  here,  either  to  the  right  hand  or  ta 
the  Jejt.  One  of  the  greateft  trials  both  of  wifdom  and  virtue  is^ 
*  Eccl,  vii.  16.  to 


Religious  an  J  Moral  CQndu&.  297 

to  preferve  a  juft  medium  between  that  harfhnefs  of  aufteniy^ 
which  difgufts  and  alienates  mankind,  and  that  weaknefs  of  good- 
nature, which  opens  the  door  to  finful  excefs.  The  one  lepa- 
rates  us  too  much  from  the  world.  The  other  connects  us  too 
clofely  with  it ;  and  feduces  us  to  folh-u)  the  multitude  in  doing  evil. 
One  who  is  of  the  former  charader,  lludies  too  little  to  be  agree- 
able, in  order  to  render  himfelf  ufeful.  He  who  is  of  the  latter, 
by  ftudying  too  much  to  be  agreeable,  forfeits  his  innocence.  If 
the  one  hurt  religion,  by  cloathing  it  in  the  garb  of  unnecefTary 
ftri<flnefs  ;  the  other,  by  unwarrrantable  compliance,  itrengthens 
the  power  of  corruption  in  the  world.  The  one  borders  on  the 
charader  of  the  Pharifee  ;  the  other,  on  that  of  the  Sadducee. 
True  religion  enjoins  us  to  ftand  at  an  equal  diftance  from  bothj 
and  to  purfue  the  difficult,  but  honourable  aim,  of  uniting  good- 
nature with  fixed  religious  principle  ;  affable  manners,  with  un- 
tainted virtue. 

Farther  ;  we  run  to  one  extreme,  when  we  contemn  altoge- 
ther the  opinions  of  mankind;  to  another,  when  we  court  ihe4f 
praife  too  eagerly.  The  former  difcovers  a  high  degree  of  pride 
and  felf-conceit.  The  latter  betrays  fervility  of  fpirit.  We  are 
formed  by  nature  and  Providence,  to  be  connected  with  oneano- 
ther.  No  man  can  fland  entirely  alone,  and  independent  of  all 
his  fellow-creatures.  A  reafonabie  regard,  therefore,  for  their 
cfteem  and  good  opinion,  is  a  commendable  principle.  It  flows 
from  humanity,  and  coincides  with  the  defire  of  being  mutually 
ufeful.  But,  if  that  regard  be  carried  too  far,  it  becomes  the 
fource  of  much  corruption.  For  in  the  prefcnt  ftate  of  mankind, 
the  praife  of  the  world  often  interferes  with  our  ading  that  ftea- 
dy  and  confcientious  part,  which  gains  the  approbation  of  God. 
Hence  arifes  the  difficulty  of  drawing  a  proper  Ihie  between  the 
allowable  regard  for  reputation,  and  the  excelTive  defire  of  praife. 
On  the  one  fide,  and  on  the  other,  dangers  meet  us;  and  either 
extreme  will  be  pernicious  to  virtue. 

He  who  extingui flies  all  regard  to  the  fentlments  of  mankind, 
fupprelTes  one  incentive  to  honourable  deeds;  nay,  he  retnove^ 
one  of  the  ftrongeft  checks  on  vice.  For,  where  there  is  no  de- 
fire of  praife,  there  will  be  alfo  no  fenfe  of  reproach  and  fliame; 
and  when  this  fenfe  i«  deltroyed,  the  way  is  paved  to  open  profli- 
gacy. 


298  Oh  Extremes  in 

gacy.  On  the  other  hand,  he  who  is  aduated  folely  by  the  love  cf 
human  praile,  incrcaches  on  the  higher  refped:  which  he  owes  10 
confcience,  and  to  God.  Hence,  virtue  is  often  counterfeited; 
and  many  a  fplendid  appearance  has  been  exhibited  to  the  world, 
which  had  no  balls  in  real  principle,  or  inward  affection.  Hence, 
religious  truths  have  been  difguifed,  or  unfairly  reprefented, 
in  order  to  he  fuitcd  to  popular  tafte.  Hence  the  Scribes  and 
Pharifees  reje(5led  our  blefied  Lord,  beeaufe  they  Iwed the  pralfe  of 
men  more  than  the  pra'ife  of  Cod. — Turn,  therefore,  neither  to 
the  right  hand,  mr  to  the  left,  Affed  not  to  defpife  what  the 
world  thinks  of  your  conduft  and  character;  and  yet,  let  not  the 
ientiments  of  the  world  entirely  rule  you.  Let  a  defire  of  eOcem 
be  one  motive  of  your  condu(51: ;  but  let  it  hold  a  fubordinate 
place.  Meafure  the  regard  that  is  due  to  the  opinions  of  men, 
by  the  degree  in  which  thefe  coincide  with  the  law  of  God. 

Allow  me  next  to  fuggeft  the  danger  of  running  to  the  ex- 
treme of  anxiety  about  worldly  interefts  on  the  one  hand,  and  of 
negligence  on  the  other.  It  is  hard  to  fay  which  of  thcTe  extremes 
is  fraught  with  moft  vice,  and  moft  mifery.  Induftry  and  dili- 
gence are  unqueftionable  duties,  ftri^ily  enforced  on  all  Chrillians  ; 
and  he  who  fails  in  making  fuitable  provifion  for  his  houfliold  and 
family,  is  pronounced  to  be  worfe  than  an  infidel.  But  here  are 
bounds,  within  which  our  concern  for  worldly  fuccefs  muft  be 
confined.  For  anxiety  is  the  certain  poifon  of  human  life.  It 
debafes  the  mind  ;  and  Ih^rpensall  the  pafTions.  It  involves  men 
in  perpetual  diflradions,  and  tormenting  cares;  and  leads  them 
afide  from  what  ought  to  be  the  great  fcope  of  human  a6lion. 
Anxiety  is,  in  general,  the  effeft  of  a  covetous  temper.  Negli- 
gence is  commonly  the  offspring  of  licentioufnels  ;  and  always, 
the  parent  of  univerfal  diforder.  By  anxiety,  you  render  your- 
felves  miferable.  By  negligence,  you  too  often  occafion  the  ru- 
in of  others.  The  anxious  man,  is  the  votary  of  riches ;  the  ne- 
gligent man,  the  votary  of  pleafure.  Each  offers  his  miflaken 
worfhip  at  the  flirine  of  a  falfe  deity,  and  each  fliall  reap  only 
fuch  rewards  as  an  idol  can  beftovv;  the  one  facriticing  the 
enjoyment  and  improvement  of  the  prefent  to  vain  cares  about 
futurity;  the  other,  fo  totally  taken  up  in  erjoying  the  prefent, 
as  to  ft  Of  e  the  future  wlih  certain  miferies. — True  virtue   hcids 

a  tern- 


Religious  and  Moral  Gondii^.  ^90 

3  temperate  courfe  between  thefe  extremes;  neither  carelefs  of 
to-morrow,  nor  taking  too  much  thought  for  it ;  diligent,  but 
not  anxious;  prudent,  but  not  covetous;  attentive  to  provide 
comfortable  accommodation  on  earth,  but  chiefly  concerned  to  lay 
up  treafures  in  Heaven, 

I  SHALL  only  warn  you  further  againft  the  extreme  of  engag- 
ing in  a  courfe  of  life  too  bufy  and  hurried,  or  of  devoting  your- 
felves  to  one  too  retired  and  unemployed.  We  are  formed  for  a 
mixture  of  action  and  retreat.  Our  connexions  with  fociety,  and 
the  performance  of  the  duties  which  we  owe  to  one  another,  ne- 
celTarily  engage  us  in  a(5tive  life.  What  we  owe  to  ourfelves,  re- 
quires occafional  retirement.  For  he  who  lives  always  in  the  buftle 
of  the  world,  cannot,  it  is  to  be  feared,  always  preferve  his  vir- 
tue pure.  Sentiments  of  piety  will  be  deprived  of  that  nouriih- 
nient  and  fupport,  which  they  would  derive  from  meditation  and 
devotion.  His  temper  will  be  often  rufHed  and  difturbed.  His 
paffions  will  be  kept  too  much  on  the  llretch.  From  the  conta- 
gious manners  which  every  where  abound,  he  will  not  be  able  to 
avoid  contracting  fome  dangerous  infedlion. — On  the  other  hand, 
he  who  flies  to  total  retreat,  in  order  either  to  enjoy  eafe,  or  to 
efcape  from  the  temptations  of  the  world,  will  often  find  difquiet 
n)eeting  him  in  folitude,  and  the  worft  temptations  arifing  from 
within  himfelf.  Unoccupied  by  active  and  honourable  purfuits; 
unable  to  devote  his  whole  time  to  improving  thoughts,  many  an 
evil  paffion  will  ftart  up,  and  occupy  the  vacant  hour.  Sullen- 
nefs  and  gloom  will  be  in  danger  of  overwhelming  him.  Peevifli 
difpleafure,  and  fufpicions  of  mankind,  are  apt  to  perfecute  thofe 
who  withdraw  themfelves  altogether  from  the  haunts  of  men. — -^ 
Steer  therefore  a  middle  courfe,  between  a  life  opprelTed  with  bu- 
finefs  on  the  one  hand  ;  and  burdened,  for  the  burden  is  no  lefs, 
with  idlenefs  on  the  other.  Provide  for  yourfeives  matter  of 
fair  and  honeft  purfuit,  to  afford  a  proper  objedl  to  the  active  pow- 
ers of  the  mind.  Teniper  bufinefs  with  ferious  meditation  ;  and 
enliven  retreat  by  returns  of  adion  and  induftry. 

Thus  1  have  pointed  out  fome  of  thofe  extremes  into  which 
men  are  apt  to  run,  by  forfaking  the  line  which  religion  and  wif- 
dom  have  drawn.  Many  more,  I  am  fenfible,  might  be  fnggeft- 
ed ;  for  the  field  is  wide,  and  hardly  is  there  any  appearance  of 


30O  On  Extremes y  Scc 

piety,  virtue,  or  good  condu6l,  but  what  the  folly  of  men  is  r.pt 
to  pufli  into  undue  excefs,  on  one  or  the  other  fide.  What  I  have 
mentioned,  will  be  fufficient  to  fliow  the  neceffity  of  prudent  cir- 
cumfpedion,  in  order  to  efcape  the  dangers  which  befet  us  in  this 
flate  of  trial.  Let  us  ftudy  to  attain  a  regular,  uniform,  confiftent 
charader;  where  nothing  that  is  excefTive  or  difproportioned  flial] 
come  forward  to  view ;  which  fliall  not  plume  itfelf  with  a  fair 
fliow  on  one  fide  only,  while  in  other  quarters  it  remains  una- 
dorned, and  blemifhed  ;  but,  where  the  different  parts  of  worth 
and  goodncfs  fliall  appear  united,  and  each  fliall  exert  its  proper 
influence  on  conduft.  Thus,  turning  neither  to  the  right  hand,  nor 
io  the  left,  we  fliall,  as  far  as  our  frailty  permits,  approach  to  the 
perfcdion  of  the  human  charafter ;  and  fliall  have  reafon  not  to 
be  ajhamed  when  we  have  equd\re/p€(^  to  all  Cod^s  commandments. 


SER. 


C    301    3 
SERMON      XLVIII. 

On  Scoffing  at  Religion. 

^-K{  n  c^-»'^  ^-. — 

2  Peter  iii.  3. 
— There  fhall  come  in  the  laji  days  Scoffers. — 

AS  the  Chriftisn  religion  is  adverfe  to  the  inclinations  and 
paiTions  of  the  corrupted  part  of  mankind,  it  has  been  its 
fate,  in  every  age,  to  encounter  the  oppofition  of  various  foes. 
Sometimes,  it  has  undergone  the  ftorms  of  violence  and  perfecu- 
tion.  Sometimes,  it  has  been  attacked  by  the  arms  of  falfe  rea- 
foning,  and  fophiftry.  When  thefe  have  failed  of  fuccefs,  it  has 
at  other  times  been  expofed  to  the  fcofFs  of  the  petulant.  Men 
of  light  and  frivolous  minds,  who  had  no  comprehenfion  of  thought 
for  difcerning  what  is  great,  and  no  folidity  of  judgment  for  de- 
ciding  on  what  is  true,  have  taken  upon  them  to  treat  religion 
with  contempt,  as  if  it  were  of  no  confequence  to  the  world. 
They  have  affecfted  to  reprefent  the  whole  of  that  venerable  fabric, 
v^hich  has  fo  long  commanded  the  refpedt  of  mankind  ;  which,  for 
ages,  the  learned  have  fupported,  and  the  wife  have  admired,  as 
having  no  better  foundation  than  the  gloomy  imagination  of  fan- 
cies and  vifionaries.  Of  this  character  were  thofe  /coffers,  pre- 
difted  by  the  Apoflle  to  arife  in  the  loft  days  ;  a  prediction  which 
we  have  feen  too  often  fulfilled.  As  the  falfe  colours  which  fuch 
men  throw  on  religion,  are  apt  to  impofe  on  the  weak  and  un- 
wary, let  us  now  examine,  whether  religion  affords  any  juft 
grounds  for  the  contempt  or  ridicule  of  the  fcoffer.  They  muft 
be  either  the  doctrines,  or  the  precepts  of  religion,  which  he  en- 
deavours to  hold  forth  to  contempt. 

The  doctrines  of  the  Chriftian  religion  are  rational  and  pure. 
All  that  it  has  revealed  concerning  the  perfections  of  God,  his 

moral 


OQ2  On  Scoffing  at  Religion, 

moral  government  and  laws,  the  deftination  of  man,  and  the  re- 
wards and  punidiments  of  a  future  (hte,  is  perfecftly  confonant 
to  the  moft  enlightened  reafon.  In  fome  articles  which  tran- 
fcend  the  limits  of  our  prefent  faculties,  as  in  what  relates  to  the 
elTence  of  the  Godhead,  the  fallen  fiate  of  mankind,  and  their 
redemption  by  Jefus  Chrift,  its  do£!rines  may  appear  myflerious 
and  dark.  Againft  thele,  the  fcofier  has  often  direded  his  at- 
tacks ;  as  if  whatever  could  not  be  explained  by  us,  ought  upon 
that  account  to  be  exploded  as  abfurd. 

It  is  unneceiTary  to  enter,  at  prefent,  on  any  particular  de- 
fence of  thefe  doctrines,  as  there  is  one  obfervation,  which,  if 
duly  weighed,  is  fufficient  to  filence  the  c?.vils  of  the  fcoffer.  Is 
he  not  compelled  to  admit,  that  the  whole  fyflem  of  nature  around 
Iiim  is  tull  of  myltery?  What  reafon,  then,  had  he  to  jfunpofe, 
tliat  the  doclrines  of  revelation,  proceeding  from  the  fame  Au- 
thor, were  to  contain  no  myflerious  obfcurity?  All  that  is  requi- 
fite  for  the  conduct  of  life,  both  in  nature  and  in  religion,  divine 
■wifdom  has  rendered  obvious  to  all.  As  nature  has  afforded  us 
fufficient  information  concerning  what  is  neccllary  for  our  food, 
our  accommodation  and  our  fafery  ;  fo  religion  has  plainly  inftrudl- 
ed  us  in  our  duty  towards  God,  and  our  neighbour.  But  as  foon 
as  we  attempt  to  rife  towards  objedts  that  lie  beyond  our  immedi- 
c^iate  fphere  of  aftion,  our  curiofity  is  checked  ;  and  darknefs 
meets  us  on  every  fide.  ^What  the  eflence  is  of  thofe  material  bo- 
dies which  we  lee  and  handle  ;  how  a  feed  grows  up  into  a  tree; 
how  man  is  formed  in  the  womb ;  or  how  the  mind  acts  upon  the 
body,  after  it  is  formed  ;  are  myfteries  of  which  we  can  give  no 
more  account,  than  of  the  moft  obfcure  and  difficult  parts  of  re^ 
velstion.  We  are  obliged  to  admit  the  exiftence  of  the  fadt,  though 
the  explanation  of  it  exceeds  our  faculties. 

After  the  fame  manner,  in  natural  religion,  queflions  arifc 
concerning  the  creation  of  the  world  from  nothing,  the  origin  of 
evil  under  the  government  of  a  perfedl  Being,  and  the  confiften- 
cy  of  human  liberty  with  divine  prefcience,  which  are  of  as  in- 
tricate a  nature,  and  of  as  difficult  folution,  as  any  queftions  in 
Chriftian  theology.  We  may  plainly  fee,  that  we  are  not  admit- 
ted iiiio  thefecrets  of  Providence,  anymore  than  into  the  myfte" 

ries 


On  Scoffing  at  Religion,  30J 

ries  of  the  GoJhead.  In  all  his  ways,  the  Almighty  is  a  *'  God 
*'  that  hideth  himfelf.  He  maketh  darknefs  his  pavilion.  He 
'^  holdeth  back  the  face  of  his  throne ;  and  fpreadeth  a  thick  cloud 
"  upon  in/' — Inftead  of  its  being  any  objedion  to  revelation,  that 
feme  of  its  doctrines  are  myfterious,  it  would  be  much  more 
flrange  and  unaccountable,  if  no  fuch  doctrines  were  found  in  it. 
Had  every  thing  in  the  Chriftian  fydem  been  perfe6tly  level  to 
our  capacities,  this  might  rather  h^ve  given  ground  to  a  fufpicion, 
of  its  not  proceeding  from  God  ;  fince  it  would  have  been  then 
fo  unlike  to  what  we  find,  both  in  the  fyftem  of  the  univerfe,  and 
in  the  fyftefn  of  natural  religion.  Whereas,  according  as  matters 
now  (land,  the  gofpel  has  the  fame  features,  the  fame  general 
charader,  with  the  other  two,  which  are  acknowledged  to  be  of  di- 
vine origin  ;  plain  and  comprehenfible,  in  what  relates  to  prac- 
tice ;  dark  and  myfterious,  in  what  relates  to  fpeculation  and  be- 
lief.* The  cavils  of  the  fcoffer,  therefore,  on  this  head,  are  fo 
far  from  having  any  juft  foundation,  that  they  only  difcover  his 
ignorance,  and  the  narrownefs  of  his  views. 

Let  us  next  proceed  to  what  relates  to  practice,  or  the  pre- 
ceptive part  of  religion. — The  duties  which  religion  enjoins  us  to 
perform  towards  God,  are  thofe  which  have  ofteneft  furniflied  mat- 
ter to  the  feoffs  of  the  licentious.  They  attempt  to  reprefent 
thefe  as  fo  idle  and  fuperfluous,  that  they  could  owe  their  birth 
to  nothing  but  enthufiafm. — For,  is  not  the  Deity  fo  far  exalted 
above  us,  as  to  receive  neither  advantage  nor  pleafure  from  our 
worihip  ?  What  are  our  prayers,  or  our  praifes,  to  that  infinite 
mind,  who,  refting  in  the  full  enjoyment  of  his  own  beatitude,  be- 
holds all  his  creatures  pafling  before  him,  only  as  the  infeds  of  a 
day?  What  but  fuperftitious  terrors  could  have  dictated  thofe  forms 
of  homage,  and  thofe  diftindions  of  facred  days,  in  which  vulgar 
minds  delight,  but  which  the  liberal  and  enlarged  look  upon  with 
fcorn  ? 

Now,  in  return  to  fuch  infults  ot  the  fcoffer,  it  might  be  fuf- 
ficient  toobferve,  that  the  united  fentiments  of  mankind,  in  eve- 
ry age  and  nation,  are  againft  hiiii.     Thoughtlefs  as  the  bulk  of 

men 

*  Sf;e  this  argument  fully  pur fued,  and  -placed  in  a  Jlrong  light,  by 
the  mafterly  hand  of^  Bifhop  BuTLER,  in  bis  Analogy  of  Natural 
and  Revealed  Religion. 


304  On  Scoffing  at  Religion, 

men  are,  and  attacned  only  to  objects  which  they  fee  around 
them,  this  principle  has  never  been  extinguifhed  in  their  breafts, 
that  to  the  great  Parent  of  the  human  race,  the  univerfal,  though 
invifible,  Benefador  of  the  world,  not  only  internal  reverence, 
but  external  homage  is  due.  Whether  he  need  that  homage  or 
not,  is  not  the  queiiion.  It  is  what,  on  our  part,  we  undoubted- 
ly owe;  and  the  heart  is,  with  reafon,  held  to  be  bafe,  which  fti- 
fles  the  emotions  of  gratitude  to  a  Benefador,  how  independent 
foever  he  may  be  of  any  returns.  True  virtue,  always  prompts 
a  public  declaration  of  the  grate-ful  fentiments  which  it  feels ;  and 
glories  in  expreffing  them.  Accordingly,  over  all  the  earth, 
crowds  of  vi^orihippers  have  afl'embled  to  adore,  in  various  forn)s, 
the  Ruler  of  the  world.  In  thefe  adorations,  the  philofopher, 
the  favage,  and  the  laint,  have  equally  joined.  None  but  the 
cold  and  unfeeling  can  look  up  to  that  beneficent  Being,  who  is 
at  the  head  of  the  univerfe,  without  foine  inclination  to  pray,  or 
to  praife.  In  vaii>,  therefore,  would  the  fcolfer  deride,  what 
the  loud  voice  of  nature  demands  and  juftihcs.  He  ere<5ls  himfeU. 
againft  the  general  and  declared  fenfe  of  the  human  race. 

But  apart  from  this  couGderation,  1  mufl  call  on  him  to  at- 
tend  to  one  of  a  i^ill  more  ferious  and  awful  nature.  Ey  his  li- 
centious  ridicule  of  the  duties  of  piety,  and  of  the  inflitutions  of 
divine  worfliip,  he  is  weakening  the  power  of  confcience  over 
men;  he  is  undermining  the  great  pillars  ot  fociety  ;  he  is  giving 
a  mortal  blow  to  public  order,  and  public  happinefs.  All  thefe 
reft  on  nothing  fo  much  as  on  the  general  belief  of  an  all- feeing 
witnefs,  and  the  general  veneration  of  an  Almighty  Governor. 
On  this  belief,  and  this  veneration,  is  founded  the  whole  obliga- 
tion of  an  oath  ;  without  which,  government  could  not  be  admi- 
niftered,  nor  courts  of  jufrice  ad;  controverfies  could  not  be  de- 
termined, nor  private  property  be  preferved  fafe.  Our  only  fe» 
curity  againft  innumerable  crimes,  to  which  the  reflraints  of  hu- 
jTian  laws  cannot  reach,  is  the  dread  of  an  invifible  avenger,  and 
of  thofe  future  punifiiments  which  he  hath  picpsred  for  the  guil- 
ty. Remove  this  dread  from,  the  rninds  of  men,  and  you  ftrength- 
^n  the  hands  of  the  wicked,  and  endanger  the  fafety  of  human 
fociety. 

But  how  could  impreifions  [o  ncceiTary  to  the  public  welfare 

be 


On  Scoffing  at  Religion,  30*5 

he  prcferved,  if  there  were  no  religious  aflemblies,  no  facred  in- 
ftitutions,  no  days  fet  apart  for  divine  worfhip,  in  order  to  be  fo- 
lenin  remembrancers  to  men,  oftheexiftence,and  the  dominion  of 
God  ;  and  of  the  future  account  they  have  to  give  of  their  ac- 
tions to  him  ?  To  all  ranks  of  men,  the  fentiments  which  public 
religion  tends  to  awaken,  are  falutary  and  beneficial.  But  with 
rerpe(El  to  the  inferior  clafTes,  it  is  well  known,  that  the  only 
principles  which  reftrain  them  from  evil,  are  required  in  the 
religious  afTcmblies  which  they  frequent.  Deftitute  of  the  ad- 
vantages of  regular  education ;  ignorant,  in  a  great  mcafure, 
of  public  laws;  unacquainted  with  thofe  refined  ideas  of  ho- 
nour and  propriety,  to  which  others  of  more  knowledge  have 
been  trained,  were  thofe  facred  temples  deferted,  to  which  they 
now  refort,  they  would  be  in  danger  of  degenerating  into  a  fe- 
rocious race,  from  whom  lawlcls  violence  was  perpetually  to  be 
dreaded. 

He,  therefore,  who  treats  facred  things  with  any  degree  of  le- 
vity and  fcorn,  is  ading  the  part,  perhaps  without  his  feeing  or 
knowing  it,  of  a  public  enemy  to  fociety.  He  is  precifely  the 
madman  defcribed  in  the  book  of  Proverbs,*  who  caftetb  fire- 
branch,  arrows ,  and  death ;  and  Jaith,  am  I  not  in  J  port  P  We 
fhall  hear  him,  at  times,  complain  loudly  of  the  undutifulnefs  of 
children,  of  the  difhonefty  of  fervants,  of  the  tumults  and  info- 
lence  of  the  lower  ranks ;  while  he  himfelf  is,  in  a  great  meafure 
refponfible  for  the  diforders  of  which  he  complains.  By  the  ex- 
ample which  he  fets,  of  contempt  for  religion,  he  becomes  accef^ 
fary  to  the  manifold  crimes,  which  that  contempt  occaGons  among; 
others.  By  his  fcoffing  at  facred  inftitutions,  he  is  encouraginjy 
the  rabble  to  uproar  and  violence ;  he  is  emboldening  the  falfe 
witnefs  to  take  the  name  of  God  in  vain ;  he  is,  in  efFed",  put- 
ting arms  into  the  hands  of  the  highwayman,  and  letting  loofe 
the  robber  on  the  flreets  by  night. 

We  coine  next  to  confider  that  great  clafs  of  duties  which  re- 
fpe«a  our  condud:  towards  our  fellow-creatures.  The  abfolute 
neceility  of  thefe  to  general  welfare  is  fo  apparent,  as  to  have 
fecured  them,  in  a  great  degree,  from  the  attacks  of  the  fcoffer. 
He  who  fliould  ittempt  to  turn  juftice,  truth,  or  honeRy,  into  ri- 
dicule, 
-  Prov.  xxvi.  1 8. 


2c6  Cn  Scoffing  at  Rdiglon* 

dicule,  would  be  avoided  by  every  one.  To  thole  who  had  any 
remains  of  principle,  he  would  be  odious.  To  thofe  who  attended 
only  to  their  intereft,  he  would  appear  a  dangerous  man.  But 
though  the  focial  virtues  are  treated  in  general  as  refpedable  and 
facred,  there  are  certain  forms  and  degrees  of  them,  which  have 
not  been  exempted  from  the  fcorn  of  the  unthinking.  That  ex- 
tenfivegenerofity,  and  high  public  fpirit,  which  prompt  a  man  to 
facrifice  his  own  intereft,  in  order  to  promote  fonae  great  general 
good  ;  and  that  ftridland  fcrupulous  integrity,  which  will  not  al- 
low one,  on  any  occafion,  to  depart  from  the  truth ;  have  often 
been  treated  with  contempt  by  thofe  who  are  called  men  of  the 
world.  They  who  will  not  ftoop  to  flatter  the  great ;  who  dif- 
dain  to  comply  with  prevailing  manners,  when  they  judge 
them  to  be  evil  ;  who  refufe  to  take  the  fmalleft  advantage  of  o- 
thers,  in  order  to  procure  thegreateft  benefit  for  themfeves  ;  are 
reprefented  as  perfons  of  romantic  chara6ler,  and  vifionary  no- 
tions, unacquainted  with  the  world,  and  unfit  to  live  in  it. 

Such  perfons  are  fo  far  from  being  liable  to  any  juft  ridicule, 
that  they  are  intitled  to  a  degree  of  refpecf,  which  approaches  to 
veneration.  For  they  are,  in  truth,  the  great  fupporiers  and 
guardians  of  public  order.  The  authority  of  their  character  over- 
awes the  giddy  multitude.  The  weight  of  their  example  retards 
the  progrefs  of  corruption  ;  checks  thatrclaxationof  morals,  which 
is  always  too  apt  to  gain  ground  infenfibly,  and  to  make  encroach- 
ments on  every  department  of  lociety.  Accordingly,  it  is  this  high 
generofity  of  fpirit,  this  inflexible  virtue,  this  regard  to  principle, 
fuperior  to  all  opinion,  which  has  ever  marked  the  characiers  ct 
thofe  who  have  eminently  diftingulfhed  themlelves  in  public  lite  ; 
who  have  patronifed  the  caufe  of  juftice  againft  powerful  opprelT- 
ors  ;  who,  in  critical  times,  have  fupported  the  falling  rights  and 
liberties  of  men ;  and  have  refledled  honour  on  their  nation  and 
country.  Such  perfons  may  have  been  fcolFed  at  by  fome  among 
whom  they  lived  ;  but  pofterity  has  done  them  ample  juflice  ;  and 
they  are  the  perfons  whofe  names  are  recorded  to  future  ages, 
and  who  are  thought  and  fpoken  of  with  admiration. 

The  mere  temporizer,  the  man  of  accommod^-iting  principles, 
and  inferior  virtue,  may  fupport  a  plaufible  character  for  a  v/hile 
among  his  friends  and  followers ;  but  as  foon  as  the  hollownefs  of 

his 


Cn  Scoffirtg  at  Rdigkn.  ^07 

his  principles  is  detciftecl,  he  finks  inro  contempt.  They  who 
are  prone  to  deride  men  of  inllexiblc  integrity,  only  betray  the 
littlenefs  of  their  minds.  They  (how  that  they  underiland  not 
the  fbblime  of  virtue  ;  that  they  have  no  difcernaient  of  the  true 
excellence  of  man.  By  affeding  to  throw  any  difcouragemems 
on  purity  and  ilriclnefs  of  morals,  they  not  only  expofe  themfcives 
to  juic  contempt,  but  propagate  fentiments  very  dangerous  to  fo- 
ciety.  For,  if  we  loofen  the  regard  due  to  virtue  in  any  of  its 
parts,  we  begin  to  Hip  tiie  whole  of  it.  No  man,  as  it  has  been 
cfti^m  faid,  becomes  entirely  proHigate  at  once.  He  deviates,  flep 
by  Hep,  from  confcience.  if  the  loofe  cafuiftry  of  the  fcolfer 
were  to  prevail,  open  dilhonefly,  falfehood,  and  treacliery,  would 
fpeedily  grow  out  of  tho(e;^on)piyJng  principles,  thofe  relaxations 
of  virtue,  which  he  would  reprefent  to  be  necelTary  for  every 
man  who  knows  the  world. 

THElaft  clafs  of  virtues  I  am  to  mention,  are  thofe  which  are  of  a 
perfonal  nature,  and  which  relpect  the  government  to  be  exerciled 
over  our  pleafures  and  paflions.  Here,  the  fcoffer  has  always  confi- 
dercd  himlelf  as  having  an  ample  field.  Often,  and  often,  have  fuch 
virtues  as  fobriety,  temperance,  modeily,  and  chalVuy,  been  made 
the  fubjecl  of  ridicule,  as  monkifn  habits,  which  exclude  men  from  the 
company  of  the  fafhionable  and  the  gay  ;  habit.%  which  are  the 
ellecT:  of  low  education,  or  of  mean  fpirits,  or  of  mere  feeblenefs 
of  conllitution ;  while  fcofFers,  waikhigj  as  it  is  too  truely  faid  of 
them  by  the  Apoftle,  ajter  their  lujls,  boaft  of  their  own  man» 
ners  as  liberal  and  free,  as  manly  and  fpifited.  They  fancy  them- 
felves  raifed  thereby  much  above  the  crowd  ;  and  hold  all  thofe 
in  contempt,  who  confine  themfelves  within  the  vulgar  bounds  of 
regular  and  orderly' life. 

Infatuated  men  !  who  fee  not  that  the  virtues  o'i  which  they 
make  fport,  not  only  derive  their  authority  frojn  the  laws  of  God, 
but  are  moreover  effentially  requifite  both  to  public,  and  to  pri- 
vate happinefs.  By  the  indulgence  of  their  licentious  pleafures  for 
a  while,  as  long  as  youth  and  vigour  remain,  a  few  pafling  grati- 
fications may  be  obtained.  But  what  are  the  confequences?  Sup. 
pofe  any  individual  to  perfevere  unre(trained  in  this  courfe,  it  is 
certainly  to  be  followed  by  difrepute  in  hisch^racler,  and  diforder 
ia  his  affairs;  by  a  wafted  and  broken  conSiuuion;  and  a  fpccd/ 

O  o  anil 


3o8  On  Scoffing  at  Religion. 

and  mifersble  old  age.  Suppofe  a  fociety  to  be  wholly  formed 
of  fiich  perfons  as  the  fcofFers  applaud  ;  fuppofe  it  to  be  filled  with 
none  but  thofe  whom  they  call  the  ions  of  pleafure ;  that  is, 
with  the  intemperate,  the  riotou?,  and  dilTolute,  among  whom  all 
regard  to  fobriety,  decency,  and  private  virtue,  was  aboliflied  ; 
what  an  odious  fcene  would  fuch  a  fociety  exhibit?  How  unlike 
any  civilized  or  well-ordered  ftatc,  in  which  mankind  have  cho- 
itn  to  dwell?  What  turbulence  and  uproar,  what  contefls  and 
quarrels,  would  perpetually  reign  in  it?  What  man  of  common 
underftanding  would  not  rather  chufe  to  dwell  in  a  defert,  than 
to  be  affociated  for  life  with  fuch  companions  ?  Shall,  then,  the 
IcofFer  prefume  to  make  light  of  thofe  virtues,  without  which 
there  could  be  neither  peace  nor  comfort,  nor  good  order^  among 
ma-nkind  ? 

Let  him  be  defired  to  think,  of  h'rs  domeftic  fituation  and  con- 
nections.  Is  he  a  father,  a  hufband,  or  a  brother?  Has  he  any  friend 
or  relation,  male  or  female,  in  whofe  happinefshe  is  interefted  ?-— 
XiCt  us  put  the  queftion  to  him,  whether  he  be  willing  that  intem- 
perance, unchaftity,  or  diflipation  of  any  kind,  fhould  mark  their 
character?  Would  he  recommend  to  them  fuch  excefles  ?  Would 
he  chufe,  in  their  prefence,  openly,  and  without  difguife,  to  feoff 
at  the  oppofite  virtues,  as  of  no  eonfeqijenGe  to  their  welfare? — 
If  even  the  moli  licentious  fluidders  at  the  thought;  if,  in  the  m^idft 
of  his  loofe  pleafures,  he  be  delirous  that  his  own  family  fliould  re- 
main untainted  ;  let  this  teach  him  the  value  of  thofe  private  vir- 
tues, which,  in  the  hours  of  diflipation,  in  the  giddinefs  of  hJs 
mind,  he  is  ready  to  contemn.     Bani(h  fobriety,  temperance,  and 
purity,  and  you  tear  up  the  fouLidations  of  all  public  order,  and 
all  domeftic  quiet.     You  render  every  houfe  a  divided  and  mifera- 
ble  abode,  refounding  with  terms  of  fbame,  and  mutual  reproach- 
es of  infamy.      You  leave  nothing  refpedable  in  the  human  cha- 
racter.    You  change  the  man  into  a  brute. 

The  conclufion  from  all  the  reafonings  which  we  have  now  purft]- 
ed  is,  that  religion  and  virtue,  in  all  their  forms,  either  of  doc- 
trine or  of  precept  ;  of  piety  towards  God,  integrity  towards  men, 
or  regularity  in  private  conduct;  are  fo  far  from  affording  any 
grounds  of  ridicule  to  the  petulant,  that  they  are  entitled  to  our 

highefl 


On  Scoffirjg  at  Rdigkn,  009 

higheft  veneration  ;  they  are  names,  which  fliould  never  be  men- 
tioned but  with  the  utmoft  honour.  It  is  faid  in  fcripture,  Fools 
make  a  mock  at  Jin.\  They  had  better  make  a  mock  at  pedilence^ 
at  war,  or  famine.  With  one,  who  (hould  chufe  thefe  public 
calamities  for  the  fubjedl  of  his  fport,  you  would  not  be  inclined 
to  aflbciate.  You  would  fly  from  him,  as  worfe  than  a  fool ;  as 
a  man  of  dirtempered  mind,  from  whom  you  might  be  in  hazard 
of  receiving  a  fudden  blow.  Yet  certain  it  is,  that,  to  the  great 
fociety  of  mankind,  fin  is  a  greater  calamity  than  either  peftilence, 
or  famine,  or  war.  Thefe  operate,  only  as  occalional  caufes  of 
mifery.  But  the  fins  and  vices  of  men,  are  perpetual  fcourges  of 
the  world.  Impiety  and  injuftice,  fraud  and  falfehood,  intempe- 
rance and  profligacy,  are  daily  producing  mifchief  and  diforder; 
bringing  ruin  on  individuals ;  tearing  families  and  communities  in 
pieces;  giving  rife  to  a  thoufand  tragical  fcenes  on  this  unhap- 
py theatre.  In  proportion  as  manners  are  vicious,  mankind  are 
unhappy.  The  perfedlion  of  virtue  which  reigns  in  the  world  a- 
bove,  is  the  chief  fource  of  the  perfed  blefftdnefs  which  prevails 
there. 

When,  therefore,  we  obferve  any  tendency  to  treat  religion 
or  morals  with  difrefped:  and  levity,  let  ushjold  it  to  be  a  fure  in- 
dication of  a  perverted  underftanding,  or  a  depraved  heart.  In 
the  feat  of  the  fcorner,  let  us  never  fit.  Let  us  account  that  wit 
contaminated,  which  attempts  to  fport  itfelf  on  facred  fubjedts. 
When  the  fcoffer  arifcs,  let  us  maintain  the  honour  of  our  God, 
and  our  Redeemer  ;  and  refolutely  adhere  to  the  caufe  of  virtue 
and  goodnefs.  The  lips  of  the  wife  utter  knowledges  but  the  mouth 
of  the  foolifh  is  near  to  deflruciion.  Him  that  honoureth  God,  God 
will  honour.  The  fear  of  the  Lord  is  the  beginning  ofwifdom;  and 
he  that  keepeth  the  commAndment,  keepdh  his  own  fouU 

S  E  R. 

f  J?rov>  xiv,  9, 


S  'E     R     M     O     N       XLIX 
On  the  Creation  of  the  World. 


;!t-rJ-4-r"4--¥""^' 


Genesis  i.   j. 
hz  ihs  beginning  Cod  created  the  Heaven  and  the  Earth, 

UCH  is  the  commencement  of  the  hiftory  of  mankind  ;  an  sra, 
to  which  we  muPt  ever  look  back  with  folenm  awe  and  ve- 
neration. Before  the  Um  snd  the  moon  had  begun  their  couriei 
before  the  found  of  the  human  voice  was  heard,  or  the  name  of 
man  was  known  ;  In  the  bfglnnlrig  Cod  created  the  heaven,  and  the 
earth,—- — To  a  beginning  of  the  world,  we  are  led  back  by  every 
thing  that  now  exifts ;  by  all  hidory,  all  records,  all  monuments 
of  antiquity.  In  tracing  the  tranfactions  of  paft  ages,  we  arrive 
at  a  period,  which  clearly  indicates  the  infancy  of  the  human  race. 
We  behold  the  world  peopled  by  degrees.  We  afcend  to  the  origin 
of  all  thofe  ufeful  and  necellary  arts,  without  the  knowledge  of 
which,  mankind  could  hardly  fubfift.  We  difcern  fociety  and  ci- 
vilization arifingfrom  rude  beginnings,  in  every  corner  of  the  earth; 
and  gradually  advancing  to  the  ftate  in  which  we  now  find  them :  All 
which  afford  plain  evidence,  that  there  was  a  period  when  mankind 
began  to  inhabit  and  cultivate  the  earth.  What  is  very  remarkable, 
the  moft  authentic  chronology  and  hiftory  of  moft  nations,  coin- 
cides with  the  account  of  Scripture  ;  and  makes  the  period  du- 
ring which  the  world  has  been  inhabited  by  the  race  of  men,  not 
to  extend  beyond  (m  thoufand  years. 

To  the  ancient  philofophers,  creation  from  nothing  appeared 
an  unintelligible  idea.  They  maintained  the  eternal  exiflence 
of  matter,  which  they  fuppofed  to  be  modelled  by  the  fovtreign 
mind  of  the  univerfe,  into  the  form  which  the  earth  now  exhibits. 
But  there  is  nothing  in  this  opinion  which  gives  it  any  title  to  be 
oppofed  to  the  authcirity  of  revelauon.    The  dodrine  of  two  felf- 

exiftcnt^ 


On  the  Creation  of  the  World,  311 

eMident,  iiKlef>endcnt  principles,  God  and  matter,  the  one  acHiive, 
the  other  paifive,  is  a  hypothelis  whicii  prefents  difficulties  to  human 
reafon,  at  leaft  as  great  as  the  creation  of  matter  from  nothing. 
Adhering  then  to  the  teftimony  of  Scripture,  we  believe,  that  in 
the  beg'miiing  God  created^  or  from  non-exiftence,  brought  into  be- 
ing, the  heaven  and  the  earth. 

But  though  there  was  a  period  when^this  globe,  with  all  that 
we  fee  upon  it,  did  not  exiil,  we  have  no  reafon  to  think,  that 
the  wifdom  and  power  of  the  Almighty  were  then  without 
exercife  or  employment.  Boundlefs  is  the  extent  of  his  domi- 
nion. Other  globes  and  worlds,  enlightened  by  other  funs^ 
may  then  have  occupied,  as  they  ftill  appear  to  occupy,  the  ini- 
nienfe  region?  of  fpace.  Numberlefs  orders  of  beings,  to  us  un- 
known, people  the  wide  extent  of  the  univerfe  ;  and  afford  an 
endlefs  variety  of  objeds  to  the  ruling  care  of  the  great  Father  of 
all.  At  length,  in  the  courfe  and  progrefs  of  his  government, 
there  arrived  a  period,  when  this  earth  was  to  be  called  into  ex- 
illence.  When  the  fjgnal  moment,  predeftined  from  all  eternity, 
was  come,  the  Deity  arofe  in  his  might;  and  with  a  word  creat- 
ed the  world, What   an  illuflrious  mon.ent  was  that,  when, 

from  non-exiftence,  there  fprang  at  once  into  being,  this  mighty 
globe,  on  which  fo  many  millions  of  creatures  now  dwell  !~No 
preparatory  meafures  were  required.  No  long  circuit  of  means 
was  employed.  He /pake ;  and  it  was  done  :  He  commanded ;  and 
it  Jlood  fajh  The  earth  was  at  nrft,  "without  form ,  and  void;  and 
darknef;  was  on  the  face  of  the  deep.  The  Almighty  furveyed  the 
dark  abyfs;  and  fixed  bounds  to  the  feveral  divifions  of  nature. 
He  faid,  Id  there  he  light ;  and  there  was  light.  Then  appeared 
the  fea,  and  the  dry  land.  The  mountains  rofe ;  and  the  rivers 
flowed.  The  fun  and  moon  began  their  courfe  in  the  flcies. 
Herbs  and  plants  clothed  the  ground.  The  air,  the  earth,  and 
the  waters,  were  flored  with  their  refpedive  inhabitants.  At  lad, 
man  was  made  after  the  image  of  God.  He  appeared,  walking 
with  countenance  eredl; ;  and  received  his  Creator's  benediction, 
as  the  lord  of  this  new  world.  The  Almighty  beheld  his  work, 
whan  it  wasfinilhed;  and  pronounced  it  good.  Superior  beings 
faw  with  wonder  this  new  acceiiion  to  exigence.  The  morning 
J^ars  fang  together;  and  all  the  fans  of  God  Jhouted  for  joy  * 

*  Job  xxxviii.  7.  But, 


jf  2  On  the  Creation  cf  the  World, 

But,  on  this  great  work  of  creation,  let  us  not  merely  gaze 
wiih  artonifliment.  Let  us  confider  how  it  iTiould  affed  our 
conduct,  by  prei'enting  the  divine  perfections  in  a  light  which  is  at 
once  edifying,  and  comforting,  to  man.  It  difplays  the  Creator 
ss  fupreme  in  power,  in  wifdom,  and  in  goodnefs. 

I,  As  fupreme  in  power.  When  we  confider  with  how  much 
I'abour  and  difiiculty  h<Jman  power  performs  its  inconfiderable 
works ;  what  time  it  cofts  to  rear  them,  and  how  eafily,  when 
reared,  they  are  dedroyed;  the  very  idea  of  creating  power, 
overwhelms  the  mind  with  awe.  Let  us  look  around,  and  fur- 
vey  this  fUipendous  edifice  whic-h  we  have  been  admitted  to  in- 
habit. Let  us  think  of  the  extent  of  the  different  climates  and 
regions  of  the  earth;  of  the  magnitude  of  the  mountains,  and  of 
the  expanfe  of  the  ocean.  Let  us  conceive  that  immenfe  globe 
which  contains  them,  launched  at  once  from  the  hand  of  the  Al- 
mighty;  made  to  revolve  incefTantly  en  its  axis,  that  it  might 
produce  the  viciflitudes  of  day  and  night ;  thrown  forth,  at  the 
fame  time,  torunitsannual  courfe  in  perpetual  circuits  through  the 
heavens;  after  fuch  a  meditation,  where  is  the  greatnefs,  where 
k  the  pride  of  man  ?  Into  what  total  annihilation  do  we  fink,  be- 
fore an  omnipotent  Being  ?  Who  is  not  difpofed  to  exclaim. 
Lord,  what  is  man,  that  thou  art  mindful  of  him  ;  or  the  fin  of  man 
that  thou  fkouldjl  vifit  himP  When  compared  wllh  thee,  all  men  are 
variity  ;  their  ivcrks  are  nothing. Reverence,  and  humble  ado- 
ration, ought  fpontaneoufly  to  arife.  He  who  feels  no  propenfity 
to  worfliip  and  adore,  is  dead  to  all  [eni'e  of  grandeur  and  majef^ 
ty  ;  has  extinguilhed  one  of  the  mod  natural  feelings  of  the  hu- 
man heart.  Know  the  Lord,  that  he  is  Gcd,  we  are  all  his  people  ;  the 
luorkmcinjhip  of  his  hands.  Let  us  worfhip  and  bow  down.  Let  us 
kneel  before  the  Lord  our  Fvlaker. 

'  Of  all  titles  to  legiilation  and  rule,  none  is  fo  evident  and  di^ 
reft  as  that  of  a  Creator.  The  convidion  is  felt  in  every  breafl, 
that  he  who  gave  us  being,  hath  an  abfolute  right  to  regulate 
our  conduft.  This  gives  a  lanftion  to  the  precepts  of  God,  which 
the  mort  hardened  dare  not  controvert.  When  it  is  a  Creator 
and  a  Father  that  fpeaks,  who  would  not  liften  and  obey?  Are 
jullice  and  humanity  his  declared  laws  ;  and  fhall  we,  whom  but 
yederday  he  called  from  the  duft^  and  whom  to-morrow  he  can 

reduce 


Cyt  the  Creation  of  the  JVorld.  ^  f  jf 

reduce  into  dull  again,  prefume,  in  contempt  of  him,  to  be  un- 
juft  or  inhuman  ?  Are  there  any  little  interefts  of  onr  own  which 
we  dare  to  ere6l,  in  oppofition  to  the  pleafure  of  him  who  made 
us  I  Fear  ye  not  me,  faith  the  Lord  ;  will  ye  not  tremble  at  my  pre^ 
fence,  who  have  placed  the  find  for  the  hound  of  the  fea,  by  a  perpe- 
tual decree,  that  it  cannot  pafs  it  ;  who.  flretch forth  my  hand  over 
the   earth,  and  none  hinder eth  P 

At  the  fame  time,  the  power  of  a  Creator  is  encouraging,  as 
well  as  aweful.  While  it  enforces  duty,  it  infpires  confidence  un- 
der affliction.  It  brings  to  view  a  relation,  which  imports  ten- 
dernefs  and  comfort;  for  it  fuggefts  the  compaflion  of  a  father. 
In  the  time  of  trouble,  mankind  are  led  by  natural  impulfe,  to 
fly  for  aid  to  Him,  who  knows  the  weaknefs  of  the  frame  which 
he  has  made;  who  remembers  we  are  duf ;  and  fees  the  dangers 
with  which  we  are  environed.  "  I  am  thine;  for  thou  hall 
'*  made  me :  Forfake  not  the  work  of  thine  own  hands,"  is  one 

of  the  molf  natural  ejaculations  of  the  dilirefTed  mind. Kcw 

bleffed  are  the  virtuous,  who  ean  reft  under  the  protetlion  of  that 
powerful  arm,  which  made  the  earth  and  the  heaven  ?  The  om- 
nipotence which  renders  God  fo  awful,  is  to  them  a  fource  of 
joy.  In  the  whole  compafs  of  nature,  nothing  is  formidable  to 
them,  who  firmly  repofc  their  truft  in  the  Creator,  To  them, 
every  noxious  power  can  be  rendered  harmlefs ;  every  threatened 
evil,  if  not  averted,  can  be  transformed  into  good.  In  the  Au- 
thor of  nature,  they  find  not  only  the  author  of  their  being;  but 
their  protector  and  defender,  the  lifter  up  of  their  heads.  **  Hap- 
**  py  is  he  that  hath  the  God  of  Jacob  for  his  help ;  whofe  hope 
*'  is  in  the  Lord  his  God;  which  made  heaven  and  earth,  the  fea, 
'*  and  all  that  therein  is ;  whicb  keepeth  truth  for  ever.''* 

II,  The  work  of  creation  is  the  difplay  of  fuprerue  wifdonr. 
It  carries  no  chara6ler  more  confpicuous  than  this.  If,  from  the 
ftrudture  and  mechanifm  of  fome  of  the  moft  complicated  works  of 
human  art,  vre  are  led  to  high  admiration  of  the  wifdom  of  the 
contriver,  what  afionifliment  may  fill  our  minds,  when  we  think 
of  the  ftrudure  of  the  univerfe!  It  is  not  only  the  flupendoBs 
building  itfelf,  which  excites  admiration;  but  the  exquiiite  fkill, 
with  which  the  endlefs  variety  of  its  parts  are  adapted  to  their 

reipedive 
*  PJalm  cxlvi.  5,  6, 


2 14  On  the  Creation  of  the  IVorld, 

refpe(^lve  piirpofes.  Infomuch,  that  the  ftudy  of  nature,  which, 
for  ages,  has  employed  the  lives  of  To  many  learned  men,  and 
which  is  ibll  fo  far  from  being  exbaultcd,  is  no  orher  than  the 
ftudy  of  divine  wifilom  difplayed  in  the  creation.  The  farther 
our  refearches  are  carried,  more  ftriidng  proofs  of  it  every  where 
meet  ns.  The  provifion  made  for  the  conftanc  regularity  of  the 
univerfe,  in  the  difpolition  of  the  heavenly  bodies,  fo  that  in  the 
c(^.urfe  of  feveral  thoufand  years,  nature  fliould  ever  exhibit  the 
fame  ufeful  and  grateful  variety,  in  the  returns  of  light  and  dark- 
iiefs,  of  fummer  and  winter;  and  ever  furnifh  food  and  habita- 
tion to  all  the  animals  that  people  the  earth  ;  mufi  be  a  lafiing 
theme  of  wonder  to  every  reileciing  mind. 

But  they  are  not  only  the  heavens  that  declare  the  glory  of 
Cody  and  the  firmament  that  freiveth  forth  htr  handy  work.  In  the 
moft  inconfjderable,  as  well  as  in  the  mod  illudrious  works  of  the 
Creator,  confummate  art  and  defign  appear.  1  here  is  not  a 
creature  that  moves,  nor  a  vegetable  that  grows,  bur,  when  mi- 
nutely examined,  furnifiies  materials  of  the  higheft  admiration. 
The  fame  wifdom  that  placed  the  fun  in  the  centre  of  the  fyifem, 
and  arranged  the  feveral  planners  around  him  in  their  order, 
has  no  lefs  ihovvn  iifelf  in  the  provifion  made  for  the  food  and 
tlvveliing  of  every  bird  that  roams  the  air,  and  every  beaft  that 
wanders  in  the  dcfert ;  equally  great,  in  the  fmalleit,  and  in  the 
moft  mapniriceni  objects ;  in  the  ftar,  and  in  the  infecl ;  in  the 
elephant,  and  in  the  fly ;  in  the  beam  that  fnines  from  heaven, 
and  in  the  grafs  that  clothes  the  ground.  Nothing  is  overlooked. 
Nothing  is  carelefsly  performed.  Every  thing  that  exifts,  is  a- 
dapted  with  perfedf  fymmetry  to  the  end  for  Vvhich  it  was  de- 
figned.  All  this  inlinite  variety  of  particulars  muft  have  been 
prefent  to  the  mind  of  the  Creator;  all  beheld  with  one  glance  of 
his  eyfe  ;  all  fixed  and  arranged,  from  the  begitming,  in  his  great 
deiign,  when  he  formed  the  heavens  and  the  earth.  Juilly  may 
we  exclaim  with  the  Pfalmift,  **  How  excellent,  O  Lord,  is  thy 
*'  name,  in  all  the  earth!  How  manifold  are  thy  v.'orks !  In  wil". 
<*  dom  haft  thou  made  them  all.  No  man  eon  iind  out  the  work 
**  that  God  maketh  from  the  beginning  to  the  end.  Such  know- 
•Medge  is  too  wonderful  for  us.  It  is  higli ;  v.s  cannot  atcain 
'*  unto  it.'' 

This 


•Cn  the  Creation  of  the  Wijrld.  515 

This  wlfdom,  difplayed  by  the  Almighty  in  the  creation,  was 
not  intended  merely  to  gratify  curiofity,  and  to  raife  wonder. 
It  ought  to  beget  profound  fubmiflion,  and  pious  truft,  in  every 
heart.  It  is' not  uncommon  for  many  who  fpeuk  with  rapture  of 
creating  wifdom,  to  be  guilty,  at  the  fame  time,  of  arraigning  the 
conduct  of  Providence.  In  the  ftru£turc  of  the  univerfe,  they 
confefs  that  all  is  ypod\y  and  beautiful.  But  in  the  government  of 
human  affairs  they  can  fee  nothing  but  dilbrder  and  confufion. — 
Have  they  forgotten,  that  both  the  one,  and  the  other,  proceed 
from  the  fame  Author  ?  Have  they  forgotten,  that  he  who  balanced 
all  the  heavenly  bodies,  and  adjufted  the  proportions  and  hmits 
of  nature,  is  the  fame  who  hath  allotted  them  their  condition  ia 
.the  world,  who  diftributes  the  meafures  of  their  profperity  and  ad* 
verfity,  and  fi>ies  the  bounds  of  thei?^  habltathrii'  If  their  lot  appear 
to  them  ill-lorted,  and  their  condition  hard  and  unequal,  let  theni 
only  put  the  queftion  to  their  own  minds.  Whether  ii  be  moft 
probable,  that  the  great  and  wife  Creator  hath  erred  in  his  diftri- 
bution  of  human  things,  or  that  they  have  erred,  in  the  judgment 
which  they  formed  concerning  the  lot  afTigned  to  them?  Can  they 
believe  that  the  divine  Artift,  after  he  had  contrived  and  iiniflied 
this  earth,  the  habitation  of  men,  with  fuch  admirable  wifdom, 
would  then  throw  it  out  of  his  hands  as  a  neglected  work  ;  would 
fufFer  the  affairs  of  its  inhabitants  to  proceed  by  chance;  and  would 
behold  them  without  concern,  running  inro  milrule  and  diforder? 
Where  were  then  that  confiltency  of  condudl,  which  we  difcovef 
in  all  the  works  of  nature,  and  which  we  cannot  but  afcribe  to 
a  perfedt  Being? — My  brother!  when  thy  plans  are  difappoint* 
,€d,  and  thy  heart  is  ready  to  defpair  ;  when  virtue  is  opprefled^ 
find  the  wicked  profper  around  thee;  in  thofe  moments  of  difturb- 
ance,  look  up  to  liim  who  created  the  heaven  and  the  earth;  and 
■confide,  that  he  who  made  light  to  fpring  from  primeval  darknefs, 
will  make  order  at  laft  toanfe  from  the  ieeming  confufion  of  th« 
world. 

Had  any  one  beheld  the  earth  in  its  flate  of  chaos ;  when  the  ele- 
ments lay  mixed  and  confufed  ;  when  the  earth  was  imthout  form 
an^  vo'ii]^  and  darknefs  was  on  the  face  of  the  dap  ;  would  he  have 
believed,  that  it  was  prefently  to  become  fo  fair  and  well  ordered 
a  globe  as  we  now  behold ;  illuminated  with  the  fplendour  of  the 

P  p  fun. 


3  T  6  ^«  the  Creation  of  the  Worfcl, 

fun,  and  decorated  with  all  the  beauty  of  nature  ?  The  fame  po"^- 
erful  hand,  which  perfe6led  the  work  of  creation,  fliall,  in  dus 
time,  difembroil  the  plans  of  Providence.  Of  creation,  we  can 
judge  more  clearly,  becaufe  it  ftood  forth  at  once  ;  it  was  perfect 
from  the  beginning.  But  the  courfe  of  Providence  isprogrefiive. 
Time  is  required  for  the  progrelhon  to  advance  ;  and  before  it  is 
finidied,  we  can  form  no  judgment,  or  at  lead,  a  very  impeifed 
one,  concerning  it.  We  muft  wait  until  th€  great  sera  arrive, 
when  the  fecrets  of  the  univerfe  fhall  be  unfolded  ;  when  the  di- 
vine defign  fhall  be  coniiimmated  ;  when  Providence  fliall  bring  all 
things  to  the  fame  completion  which  creation  has  already  attained. 
Then  we  have  every  reafon  to  believe,  that  the  wife  Creator 
fliall  appear  in  the  end,  to  have  been  the  wife  and  juft  rnier  of 
the  world.  Until  that  period  come,  let  us  be  contented  and  pa- 
tient* let  us  fubmit  and  adore.  Although  thoujayejiy  thou  palt  not 
fee  hhn,  yet  judgment  is  be/ore  him  ;  therejore,  trufi  thou  in  hi^n.  % 
This  exhortation  will  receive  more  force,  when  we, 

III.  Considf:r  creation  as  a  difplay  of  fopreme  goodnefs,  nolefs 
than  of  wifdom  and  power.  It  is  the  communication  of  nunjberlefs 
benefits  to  all  who  live,  together  with  cxiftence.  Juflly  is  the 
earth  laid  to  ht  full  of  the  gor^dnejs  of  the  Lord  Throughout  the 
whole  fyftem  of  things,  we  behold  a  manifefl  tendency  to  promote 
the  benefit  either  of  the  rational,  or  the  animal  creation.  In 
fome  parts  of  nature,  this  tendency  may  be  lefs  obvious  than  in 
others.  Objects  which  to  us  feem  ufelefs,  or  hurtful,  may  fome- 
times  occur  ;  and  ftrange  it  were,  if  in  fo  vafl  and  complieated'a 
fyitem,  difficulties  of  this  kind  fhould  not  occafionally  prefent 
themfelves  to  beings,  whofe  views  are  fo  narrow  and  limited  as 
ours.  It  is  well  known,  that  in  proportion  as  the  knowledge  of  na- 
ture  has  increafed  among  men,  thefe  difficulties  have  diminiflied. 
Satisfactory  accounts  have  been  given  of  many  perplexing  appear- 
ances. Ufeful  and  proper  purpofes  have  been  found  to  be  pro- 
moted, by  objects  which  were,  at  firft,  thought  unprofitable  of 
noxious. 

Malignant  nuift  be  the  mind  of  that  perfon  ;  with  a  diffort- 
ed  eye  he  muft  have  contemplated  creation,  who  can  fufpedl,  that 
it  is  not  the  production  of  infinite  benignity  and  goodnels.     Ho^' 

many 
f  Job  XXXV.    J  4. 


On  the  Creation  of  the  World,  tiy 

jnany  clear  marks  of  benevolent  intentions  appear,  every  where 
around  us?  What  a  profalion  of  be^tuty  and  ornamemt  is  poured 
forth  on  the  face  of  nature?  What  a  magnificent  fpcdacle  prefent- 
ed  to  the  view  of  man?  What  fupply  contrived  for  his  wants? 
What  a  variety  of  obj^ds  fet  before  him,  to  gratify  his  fenfes,  to 
employ  his  underftanding,  to  entertain  his  imagination,  to  cheer 
and  gladden  his  heart  ?  Indeed,  the  very  exigence  of  the  univerfe 
is  a  Handing  memorial  of  the  goodnefs  of  the  Creator.  For 
nothing,  except  goodnefs,  could  originally  prompt  creation.  The 
fupreme  Being,  ielf-exiltent  and  all-lufficient,  had  no  wants  which 
he  could  feek  to  fupply.  No  new  acceliion  of  felicity  or  glory  was 
to  refult  to  him.  from  creatures  whom  he  made.  It  was  goodnefs 
communicating  and  pouring  itfelf  forth,  goodnefs  delighting  to 
impart  happinefs  in  all  its  forms,  which  in  the  beginning  created 
the  heaven  and  the  earth*  Hence,  thofe  innumerable  orders  of 
living  creatures  with  which  the  earth  is  peopled ;  from  the  low- 
cil  clafs  of  fenfative  being,  tothefaigheft  rank  of  reafon  and  intelli- 
gence. Wherever  there  is  life,  there  is  fome  degree  of  happinefs  ; 
there  are  enjoyments  fuited  to  the  different  powers  of  feeling  ;  and 
earth,  and  air,  and  water,  are,  with  maguiiicent  liberality,  made 
to  teem  with  life. 

Let  thofe  ftriking  difplays  of  creating  goodnefs  call  forth,  on 
Ofur  part,  refponilve  love,  gratitude,  and  veneration.     To  this 
great  Father  of  all  exigence  and  life,  to  Him  who  hath  raifed  us 
ixp  to  behold  the  light  of  day,  and  to  enjoy  all  the  comforts  which 
his  world  prcfents,  l«t  our  hearts  fend  forth  a  perpetual  hymn  of 
praife.     Evening  and  morning  let  us  celebrate  Him,  who  maketh 
the  morning  and  the  evening  to  rejoice  over  our  heads;  whoo/>f«» 
eth  his  handg  and  fatis^etb  the  d^Jirc  of  every  iivlng  thing.     Let  us 
rejoice,  that  we  are  brought  into  a  world,  which  is  the  produc« 
tion  of  infinite  goodnefs;  over  which  a  fupreme  intelligence  pre. 
fidei ;  and  where  nothing  happens,  that  was  not  planned  and  ar- 
ranged,  from  the  beginning,  in  his  decree.     Convinced  that  he 
hateth  not  the  works  which  he  hath  made,  nor  hath  brought  crea- 
tures intoexiftince,  merely  to  fufFer  unnccelTary  pain,  let  us,  even 
in  the  midltof  forrow,  receive,  with  calm  fubmifTion,  whatever 
he  is  pleafed  to  fend ;  thankful  for  wh*t  he  bellows ;  and  fatislv 
ed,  that,  without  good  reafon,  he  t^kes  nothing  away. 


cijg  Oti  the  Creation  of  the  World, 

Such,  in  general,  are  the  efFe£ts  \i  hich  meditation  cntliecrea.^ 
tion  of  the  world  ought  to  prodoce.     It  prefents  fuch  an  aftonifh- 
ing  conjunction  of  power,  wildom,  and  goodrjefs,  as  cannot  be  be- 
held without  religious  veneration.     Accordingly,  among  nil   na- 
tions of  the  earth,  it  has  given  rife  to  religious  belief  and  wcrfiiip. 
The  mofl  ignorant  and  favage  tribes,  when  the}'  locked  round  on 
the  earth  and  the  heavens,  could  not  avoid  afcribing  their  origin 
to  fom«  inviiible  defigningcaufe,  and  feeling  a  propenfity  to  adore. 
They  are,  n)deed,  the  awful  appearances  of  the  Creator's  power, 
by  which,  chiefly,  they  have  been  imprelTed  ;  and  which  have  in- 
troduced into  their  worfhip  fo  many  rites  of  dark  fuperftition. 
When  the  ufual  courfe  of  nature  feemed  to  be  interrupted  ;  when 
loud  thunder  rolled  above  them  in  the  clouds,  or  earthquakes  (hook 
the  giound,  the  multitude  fell  on  their  knees,  and,  with  trembling 
liorror,  brought  forth  the  bloody  facrihce  to  appeafe  the  angry  di- 
vinity.    But  it  is  not  in  thofe  tremendous  appearances  of  power 
merely,  that  a  good  and  well-inflrucled  man  beholds  the  Creator 
of  the  world.     In  the  conttant  and  regular  working  of  his  hands, 
in  the  Client  operations  of  his  wifdom  and  goodnefs,  ever  going 
on  throughout  nature,  he  delights  to  contemplate  and  adore  him. 
This  is  one  of  the  chief  fruits  to  be  derived  fron)  that  more 
perfedt  knowledge  of  the  Creator,  which  is  imparted  to  us  by  the 
Chnllian  reveiation.     Impreffing  our  minds  with  a  juit  fenfe  of  all 
Ills  attributes,  as  not  wife  and  great  only,  but  as  gracious  and 
iTierciful,  let  it  lead  us  to  view  every  objed:  of  calm  and  undiifurbed 
nature,  with  a  perpetual  reference  to  m  Author.     We  Ihali  then 
behold  all  ths  fcenes  which  the  heavens  and  the  earth  prefent, 
with  more  refined  feelings,  and  fublimer  emotions,  than  they  who 
regard  them  folely  as  c)bj<»ds  of  curiofity,  or  amufement.     Nature 
will  appear  animated,  and  enlivened,  by  the  prcfence  of  its  Au- 
thor.    When  the  fun  rifes  or  fets  in  the  heavens ;  when  fpring 
paints  the  earth,  when  fummer  fhines  in  its  glory,  when  autumn 
pours  forth  its  fruits,  or  winter  returns  in  its  awful  forms,  we  fiiall 
view  the  Creator  manifeftlng  himfelf  in  his  works.   We  fliall  meet 
his  prefencein  the  fields.    We  (hall  feel  his  influence  in  the  cheer- 
ing beam.     We  fiiall  hear  his  voire  in  the  wind.     We  fhall  behold 
•Urfelves  every  where  furrounded  with  the  glory  of  that  unive^^ 

fal 


On  ihe  Creation  af  the  World.  319 

fal  Spirit,  who  fills,  pervades,  and  upholds,  all.  We  fhall  live  in 
the  world  as  in  a  greacand  auguft  temple;  where  the  prefence  of 
the  divinity,  who  inhabits  it,  infpires  devotion. 

Magnificent  as  the  fabrick  of  the  world  is,  it  was  not  how* 
ever,  intended  ior  perpetual  duration.  It  was  ere£ted  as  a  tem- 
porary  habitation  for  a  race  of  beings,  who,  after  adting  there  a 
probationary  part,  were  to  be  removed  into  a  higher  ftate  of  ex- 
igence. As  tliere  was  an  hour  fixed  from  alJ  eternity  for  its  crea- 
tion, fo  there  is  an  hour  fixed  for  its  dilToiution  ;  when  the  hea- 
vens and  the  earth  ihail  pals  away,  and  their  place  fhall  know 
them  no  more.  The  confideration  of  this  great  event,  as  the 
counterpart  to  the  wprk  of  creation,  fliall  be  ;he  fubjedl  of  the 
ftiiowing  difcourfe. 


SER. 


SERMON      L. 

On  the  Dissolution  of  the  World. 

2  Piter  iii.  lo. 

But  the  Jay  of  the  Lor  J  wilJ  come  as  a  thief  w  the  night ;  In  the 
which  the  heavens  /hall  pafs  away  with  a  great  mije,  and  the  ele^ 
ments  fl^sll  melt  ivith  fervent  heat ;  the  earth  alfo,  and  the  worH 
that  are  therein,  fiat/  be  burnt  up. 

THESE  words  prefent  to  us  sn  awful  view  of  the  final  cata- 
ftrophc  of  the  world.  Having  treated,  in  the  preceding  dif- 
courfe,  of  the  commencsment,  let  us  now  contemplate  the  clofa- 
of  all  human  things.  The  diOolution  of  the  material  fyltem,  is  an 
article  of  our  fa;th,  often  alluded  to  in  the  Old  I'eitament,  and 
clearly  predi(fled  in  the  New,  It  is  an  article  of  faith,  fo  far  from 
being  incredible,  that  many  appearances  in  nature  lead  to  the 
belief  of  it.  We  fee  all  terreftrial  fubftances  changing  their  form. 
Nothing  that  confilfs  of  matter,  is  formed  for  perpetual  duration. 
Every  thing  around  us,  is  impaired  and  confumed  by  time ;  wax- 
es old  by  deorees,  arad  tends  to  decay.  There  is  reafon,  there- 
fore,  to  believe,  that  a  ftrudure  fo  complex  as  the  world,  muft 
be  liable  to  the  fame  law ;  and  fliall,  at  fome  period,  undergo  the 
fame  fate.  Through  many  changes,  the  earth  has  already  palTed; 
many  fliocks  it  has  received,  and  ftfil  is  often  receiving.  A  great 
portion  of  what  is  now  dry  land  appears,  from  various  tokens,  to 
have  been  once  covered  with  water.  Continents  bear  the  marks 
of  having  been  violently  rent,  and  torn  afunder  from  one  another. 
New  iflands  have  arifen  from  the  bottom  of  the  ocean,  thrown 
up  by  the  force  of  fubterraneous  fire.  Formidable  earthquakes 
have,  in  divers  quarters,  (haken  the  globe  ;  and  at  this  hour  ter- 
rify, with  their  alarms^  many  parts  of  it.     Burning  mountains 

have, 


On  the  Dilution    of  the  World,  jC?! 

have,  for  ages,  been  difchargirg  torrents  of  flame;  and  frona 
time  to  time  renew  their  explolions,  in  various  regions.  All  thefe 
circumftances  fliow,  that  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  the  inftru- 
nients  of  its  diflolution  are  formed.  To  our  view,  who  behold 
only  its  furface,  it  may  appear  fii  m  and  nnfhaken  ;  while  its  de- 
(irudion  is  preparing  in  fecret.  The  ground  on  which  we  tread 
is  ujiderrnincd.  Ccmbuftiblc  materials  are  ftored.  The  train  is 
laid.     When  tiie  mine  is  to  fpring,  none  of  us  can  forefee. 

AccusTuMJ  D  to  heboid  the  courfe  of  nature  proceedii3g  in  re- 
gular order,  we  indulge,  meanwhile,  our  plea fures  and  purfuiis 
with  full  fecurity  ;  and  fuch  aweful  ftenes  as  the  cunvulfion  of  the 
elements,  and  the  diflolution  of  the  world,  are  foreign  to  our 
thoughts.  Ytt,  as  it  is  certain  that  foine  generation  of  men  muft 
wittefs  this  great  catadrophe,  it  is  fit  and  proper  that  we  fliould 
fo!i>eiiines  look  forw  ard  to  it.  Such  profpecis  may  not,  indeed, 
be  alluring  to  the  bulk  of  n}en.  But  they  carry  a  grandeur  and 
ibleinnity,  w}\ich  are  congenial  to  fome  of  the  njofi  dignified  feel- 
ings in  our  nature ;  and  tend  to  produce  elevation  of  thought. 
Amidll  the  circle  of  levities  and  follies,  of  little  pleafures  and  lit- 
tle cares,  which  fill  up  the  ordinary  round  of  life,  it  is  nccefTary 
that  we  be  occalionaily  excited  to  attend  to  what  is  ferious  and 
great.  Such  events  as  are  now  to  be  the  fubjed:  of  our  medita- 
tion, awake  the  flumbering  mind  ;  check  tlie  iicentioufnefs  of  idle 
thought,  and  bring  home  our  recoUe(5tion  to  what  raoft  concerns 
us,  as  men  and  Chrilbans. 

Let  us  think  what  aftonifhment  would  have  filled  our  mind*, 
and  what  devout  emotions  would  have  fwelled  our  hearts,  if  we 
could  have  been  fpeciators  of  the  creation  of  the  world  ;  if  we  had 
feen  the  earth  when  it  arcfe  at  firft,  'without  form  and  vend,  and 
beheld  its  parts  arranged  by  the  divine  word ;  if  we  had  heard 
the  voice  of  the  Almighty,  calling  light  to  fpring  forth  from  the 
darknefs  that  was  on  the  face  of  tne  deep  ;  if  we  had  f«en  the  iun 
ariling,  for  the  firft  time  in  the  eaft,  with  majeftic  glory,  aiKl 
all  nature  inftantly  beginning  to  teem  with  life.  This  wonder- 
ful fcene,  it  was  impofiible  that  any  human  eye  could  behold.  It 
was  a  fpeciacie  afforded  only  to  angels,  and  fuperior  fpirits.  Bi7t 
to  a  fpedacleno  le(s  aOonifhing,  the  final  dilTolution  of  the  world 
we  know  there  fhall  be  many  human  witnefi'es.    The  race  ot  men 


living 


/jj^i  On  the  Dtffoluim  tf  the  World, 

living  ?n  that  laft  age,  fhall  fee  the  prefages  of  the  approaching 
fatal  day.  Tliere  fliall  bey/^nj  in  the  fun,  as  the  Scripture  in- 
forms  us,  and  figns  in  the  moon,  andftars ;  upon  the  earth,  dijirefs 
ef  nations f  -with  perplexity  ;  the  fea  and  the  wave^  roaring, ^  They 
fhall  clearly  perceive,  that  univerfal  nature  is  tending  to  ruin. 
They  fhall  feel  the  globe  (hake  ;  fhall  behold   their  cities   fall, 

and  the  final  conflagration  begin  to  kindle  around  thera. Kca- 

lifing  then  this  awful  fcene ;  imagining  ourfelves  to  be  already 
fpedators  of  it,  let  us, 

J.  CoNTEiMPLATE  the  Supreme  Being  direding  the  diflblu- 
tlon,  as  he  direcled  the  original  formation  of  the  world.  He  is 
the  great  agent  in  this  wonderful  tranfadion.  It  was  by  him 
forefcen.  It  was  by  him  intended  ;  it  entered  into  his  plan  from 
the  moment  of  creation.  This  world  was  defined  from  the  be- 
ginning to  fulfil  a  certain  period;  and  then  its  duration  was  to 
terminate.  ISlot  that  it  is  any  pleafure  to  the  Almighty,  to  dil- 
play  his  omnipotence  in  deih'oying  the  works  which  he  has  made; 
but  as  tor  wife  and  good  purpofcs  the  earth  was  formed,  fo  for 
wife  and  good  ends  it  is  diflblved,  when  the  time  mofl  proper  for 
its  termination  is  come.  He  who,  in  the  counfels  of  his  Provi- 
dence, brings  about  fo  many  revolutions  among  mankind  ;  who 
changeth  ibe  times  and  the  feafons  ;  who  raifes  up  empires  to  rule, 
in  fuccelTion,  among  the  nations,  and  at  his  pleafure  puts  an  end 
to  their  glory;  hath  alio  fixed  a  term  for  the  earth  itfelf,  the 
feat  of  all  human  greatnefs.  He  faw  it  meet,  that  after  the  pro- 
batiojiary  courfe  wasfinifhed,  which  the  generations  of  men  were 
to  accopnplilh,  their  prefect  habitation  Ihould  be  made  to  pafs 
away.  Of  the  fealonablenels  of  the  period  when  this  change 
fhould  take  place,  no  being  can  judge,  except  the  Lord  of  the  uni- 
verfe.  Thefe  are  counfels,  into  which  it  is  not  ours  to  penetrate. 
But  amiJfl  this  great  revolution  of  nature,  our  comfort  is,  that  it 
is  a  revolution  brought  about  by  Him,  the  meafures  of  whole  go- 
vernment are  all  founded  in  goodncfs. 

It  is  called  in  the  text,  *<  the  day  of  the  Lord  ;*'  a  day  pecu- 
liarly his,   as  known  to  him  only  ;   a  day  in  which  he  iliall  ap- 
pear with  uncommon  and  tremendous  majefty.     But  though  it  be 
the  day  of  the  terrors  of  the  Lord,  yet  from  ihefc  terrors,  his  up- 
right 
*  Luke  xxi.  2c, 


On  ike  Diffolution  of  the  World,.  323 

tight  and  faithful  fubjeds  fhall  have  nothing  to  apprehend.  They 
may  remain  fafe  and  quiet  Ipec^ators  of  the  threatening  fcene. 
For  it  is  not  to  be  a  liene  of  blind  confufion  ;  of  univerial  ruin? 
brought  about  by  undeligiiing  chance.  Over  the  fhock  of  the  ele- 
ments and  the  wreck  of  nature,  Eternal  Wifdom  prelides.  Ac- 
cording to  its  dirediion,  the  conflagration  advances  v.'hich  is  to 
confunie  the  earth.  Amidft  every  convulfion  of  the  world,  God 
fhall  continue  to  be,  as  he  was  from  the  beginning,  *'  the  dvvcll- 
*'  ing-place  of  his  fervants  to  all  generations.*'  The  world  may 
be  loft  to  them  ;  but  the  Ruler  of  the  world  is  ever  the  fame,  un- 
changeably good  and  juft.  This  is  the  high  tower,  to  which  they 
can  fly,  and  be  fafc.  "  The  righteous  Lord  loveth  righteouf- 
*'  nefs  ;'*  and  under  every  period  of  his  government,  '^  his  coun- 
<^  tenance  beholdeth  the  upright. 

II.  Let  us  contemplate  the  diffolution  of  the  world,  as  the 
end  of  all  human  glory.  This  earth  has  been  the  theatre  of  many 
a  great  fpectacle,  and  many  a  high  atchievement.  There,  the 
the  wile  have  ruled,  the  mighty  have  fought,  and  conquerors  have 
triumphed.  Its  furface  has  been  covered  with  proud  and  ftately 
cities.  Its  temples  and  palaces  have  raifed  their  heads  to  the 
fties.  Its  kings  and  potentates,  glorying  in  their  magnificence, 
have  erected  pyramids,  conftru^^ted  towers,  founded  monuments, 
which  thej^  imagined  were  to  defy  all  the  affaults  ot  time.  "  Their 
'^  inward  thoughts  was,  that  their  houles  were  to  continue  for 
*'  ever,  and  their  dwelling-places  to  all  generations.''  Its  philo. 
fophers  have  explored  the  fecrets  of  nature;  and  flattered  them- 

felves,  that  the  fame  of  their  difcoveries  was  to  be  immortal. * 

Alas !  all   this  was  no  more  than   a  tranfient  fhow.     Not  only 
*'  thefalTiion  of  the  world,"  but  the  world  itfelf,  "  paffeth  away.*- > 
The  day  cometh,  when  all  the   glory  of  this  world  fhall  be  re-  - 
niembered  only  as   *^  a  dream  when  one  awaketh."     No  longe  f 
Ihall  the  earth  exhibit  any  of  thofe  fcenes  which  now  delight  cc  ^r 
eyes.     The  whole  beautiful  fabric  is  thrown  down,  never  mo  re 
to  arife.     As  foon  as  the  deftroying  angel  has  fc.unded  the  hiil 
trumpet,  the  everlafting  mountains  fall  ;  the  foundytions  of  the 
world  are  fhaken  ;  the  beauties  of  nature,  the  decorations  of  art, 
the  labours  of  induitry,  periOi  in  one  common  flame.     The  globe 
itfelf  fhall  either  return   into  its  ancient  chaos,  ^^  without  foroj 


324  Cn  the  Diffolutton  of  the  Woria, 

^'  and  void  ;'>  or,  like  a  ftar  fallen  from  the  heavens,  fiiall  be  ef- 
faced from  the  univerfe,  and  **  its  place  fliall  know  it  no  more." 
This  day  of  the  Lord,  it  is  foretold  in  the  text,  "  will  come 
"  as  a  thief  in  the  night  j"  thnt  is,  fudden  and  unexpected.  Man- 
kind, notwithftanding  the  prefages  given  them,  fliall  continue  to 
the  laft  in  their  wonted  fecuriiy.  Our  Saviour  tellsus,  that  "as  in 
'^  the  days  of  Koah  before  the  flood,  they  were  eating  and  drink- 
*'  ing,  marrying  and  giving  in  marriage,  until  the  flood  came 
"  and  took  them  all  away  ;   fo  Hiall  alfo  the  coming  of  the  Son  of 

"  Man  be."f —How  many  projeds  and  defigns  fhall  that  day 

fuddenly  confound  ?  VV  hat  long-contrived  fchemes  of  pleafure 
iball  it  overthrow?  What  plans  of  cunning  and  ambition  fhall  it 
utterly  blaft?  How  raiferable  they,  whom  it  fhall  overtake  in  the 
rnidft  of  dark  confpiracies,  of  criminal  deeds,  or  profligate  plea- 
fures?  In  what  ftrong  colours  is  their  difmay  painted,  when  they 
arc  reprefented  in  the  book   of  Revelations,  as  calling   "  to  the 

"  hills  and  mountains   to  fall  on  them  and  cover  them  V^ 

Such  defcriptions  are  apt  to  be  confidered  as  exaggerated.  The 
imprefhon  of  thole  awful  events  is  weakened  by  rhe  great  dif- 
tance  of  time,  at  which  our  imagination  places  them.  But  have 
not  we  had  a  ftriking  image  fet  before  us,  in  our  own  age,  cf 
the  terrors  which  the  day  of  the  Lord  fliall  produce,  by  thofe  par- 
tial ruins  of  the  world,  which  the  vifitation  of  God  has  brought 
on  countries  well  known,  and  not  removed  very  far  from  our- 
felves?  When  in  the  midft  of  peace,  opulence,  and  fecurity,  fud- 
denly the  earth  was  felt  by  the  terrified  inhabitants,  to  tremble, 
with  violent  agitation,  below  them  ;  whsti  their  houfes  began  to 
fliake  over  their  heads,  and  to  overwhelm  them  with  ruins  ;  the 
flood,  at  the  fame  time,  to  rife  from  its  bed,  and  to  fwell  around 
jthem  ;  when  encompafTed  with  univerfal  defblation,  no  friend 
could  aid  another ;  no  profpecl  of  efcape  appeared  ;  no  place  of 
refuge  remained  ;  how  limilar  were  fueh  fcenes  of  defirudion  to 
the  terrors  of  the  lafl  day  ?  What  fimilar  fenfations  of  dread, 
and  remorfe,  and  too  late  repentance,  niufl:  they  have  excited 
among  the  guilty  and  profane  ? 

To  fuch  formidable  convulfions  of  nature,  we,  in  thefe  happy 
ill.inds,  through  the  blefling  of  Heaven,  are  flrangers;  and  ilran- 

gers 
■\  Matt.  xxiv.  38. 


On  the  Dlffolution  of  the  U^orld,  32 J 

gers  to  them  may  we  long  continue  !  But  however  we  may  efcape 
partial  ruins  of  the  globe,  in  its  general  and  final  ruin,  we  alio 
mufl:  be  involved.  To  us  mnft  come  at  lall  that  awful  day,  when 
the  fun  fhall  for  the  laft  time  arife,  to  perform  his  concluding  cir- 
cuit round  the  world.  They  how  bleft,  whom  that  day  fhall  find 
employed  in  religious  ads,  or  virtuous  deetk  ;  in  the  confcien- 
tious  difcharge  of  the  duties  of  life  ;  in  the  exercife  of  due  prepa- 
ration for  the  conclufion  of  human  things,  and  for  appearing  before 
the  great  Judge  of  the  world  !  Let  us  now 

III,  Contemplate  the  foul  of  man,  as  remaining  unhurt 
m  the  midft  of  this  general  defolation,  when  the  whole  animal 
creation  perifhes,  and  the  v/hole  frame  of  nature  falls  into  ruins. 
What  a  high  idea  does  this  prefent  of  the  dignity  pertaining  to 
the  rational  fpirit.  The  world  may  fall  back  into  chaos;  but,  fu- 
perior  to  matter,  and  independent  of  all  the  changes  of  material 
things,  the  foul  continues  the  fame.  When  "  the  heavens  pafs 
*^  away  with  a  great  noife,  and  the  elements  melt  with  fervent 
"  heat,''  the  foul  of  man,  (lamped  for  immortality,  retains  its 
ftate  unimpaired  ;  and  is  capable  of  fiourifhing  in  undccaying  youth 
and  vigour.  Very  different  indeed  the  condition  of  human  fpirits 
is  to  be,  according  as  their  different  qualities  have  marked,  and 
prepared  them  for  different  future  manfions.  But  for  futurity, 
they  are  all  deflined.  Exiftence,  ftill,  is  theirs.  The  capacity 
of  permanent  felicity  they  all  pofTefs ;  and,  if  they  enjoy  it  not, 
it  is  owing  to  themfelves. 

Here,  then,  let  us  behold  what  is  the  true  honour  and  excel-, 
lence  of  man.  It  confifts  not  in  his  body  ;  which,  beautiful  or 
vigorous  as  it  may  now  feem,  is  no  other  than  a  fabric  of  duft, 
quickly  to  return  to  dufl  again.  It  is  not  derived  from  any  con- 
nection he  can  form  with  earthly  things;  which,  as  we  have  feen, 
are  all  doomed  to  perifh.  It  confiflsin  that  thinking  part,  which 
is  fufcepiible  of  intellectual  improvement  and  moral  worth  ;  which 
was  formed  aft€r  the  image  of  God  ;  which  is  capable  of  perpetual 
progrefs  in  drawing  nearer  to  his  nature  ;  and  fliall  partake  of  the 
divine  eternity,  when  time  and  the  world  fhall  be  no  more. 
This  is  all  that  is  refpedable  in  man.  By  this  alone,  he  is  railed 
above  perifliable  fubftances,  and  allied  to  thofe  that  are  celeftial 

and 


326  On  the  DlJJhluiion  of  the  World, 

and  immortal.  This  part  of  our  nature,  then,  let  us  cultivate 
with  care;  and,  on  its  improvement,  rell  our  I'elf-eftima- 
tioD.  If,  on  the  contrary,  fuffering  ourfelves  to  be  wholly  iin- 
merfed  in  matter,  plunged  in  the  dregs  of  fenfuality,  we  behave 
as  if  we  were  only  made  for  the  body,  and  its  animal  pleafures, 
how  degenerate  apd  b?.fe  do  we  become?  Deflined  to  lurvive 
tliis  whole  material  fyfletn,  fent  forth  to  run  the  race  of  inunor- 
rality  and  glory,  fhall  we  thus  abufe  cur  Maker's  goodnefs,  de- 
grade our  original  honour,  and  fink  ourfelves  into  deferved  niife- 
ry  ?  h  remaini-,  that, 

IV.  We  contemplate  the  dilTolution  of  the  world,  as  the  intro- 
duction to  a  greater  and  nobler  fyitem,  in  the  government  ot  God. 
/F^,  according  fj  his  promife,  look  for  new  heavens  and  a  new  earth , 
wherein  dwtikth  right eoujnefs.*  Temporal  things  are  now  to  give 
place  to  things  eternal.  To  this  earthly  habitation  is  to  lucceed 
the  city  of  the  living  God,  The  earth  had  completed  the  purpofe 
for  which  it  was  created.  It  had  been  employed  as  a  theatre,  on 
which  the  human  c^enerations  were  fucceflively  to  co'V:e  forth,  and 
to  fulfil  their  term  of  trial.  As  long  as  the  period  of  trial  conti- 
nued, much  obfcurity  was  of  courfe  to  cover  the  counfels  of  Pro- 
vidence, It  was  appointed,  that  all  ihtngi  fiiould  appear  as  com- 
ing alike  tQ  all  \  that  the  righteous  fliould  feem  often  negleded  by 
Heaven,  and  the  wicked  be  allowed  externally  to  profper :  ii)  order 
that  virtue  aijd  piety  might  undergo  a  proper  telt ;  thai  it  might 
be  Ihown  who  were  fjncere  adherents  to  confcience,  and  who 
were  mere  followers  of  fortune.  The  day  v.  hich  terminates  tiie 
duration  of  the  world,  terminates  all  thofe  fecn)ing  diforders. 
The  time  of  trial  is  concluded.  The  final  difcrimantion  of  cha- 
raclers  is  made.  When  the  righteous  go  toeverla(ting  happinefs, 
and  the  wicked  are  difnjilled  into  the  regions  of  punilhment,  the 
whole  mydery  of  human  affairs  is  unravelled  ;  and  the  conduct 
of  Providence  is  juftified  to  man. 

Suited  to  a  condition  of  trial  was  the  ftate  and  form  of  the 
world,  which  we  now  inhabit.  It  was  nor  deligned  to  be  a  man- 
lion  for  innocent  and  happy  fpirits;  but  a  dwelling  for  creatures 
of  fallen  nature,  and  of  mixed  characters.  Hence,  thofe  mixtures 
of  pleaiure  and  pain,  of  diiorder  and  beauty,  with  which  it  abounds. 

Hence, 
*  2  Pet,  iii.   13. 


On  the  Dtffoluiion  of  the  Worid,  327 

Hence,  fome  regions  of  the  earth,  prefenting  gay  and  plcafing 
fcenes ;  others,  exibiting  nothing  but  ruggednefs  and  deformiiy  ; 
the  face  of  nature,  fometimes  brightened  by  a  ferene  atmofphere, 
and  a  fplendid  fun  ;  fometimes  disfigured  by  jarring  elements,  and 
overcaft  with  troubled  ikies.     But  far  unlike  fliall  be  the  everlaft- 
ing  habitations  of  the  juft:  Though  how  they  are  formed,  or 
what  obje^s  they  contain,  is  not  given  us  now  to  conceive;  nor 
in  all  probability,  would  our  faculties  be  equal  to  the  conception. 
The  emblematical  defcriptions  of  them  in  Scripture,  are  calculat- 
ed to  excite  high  ideas  of  magnificence  and  glory.     This  one  par- 
ticular we  kno^v  with  certainty,  thai  therein  dwelleth  right eoufnefs  - 
that  is,  complete  virtue,  and  eternal  order ;  and  wherever  thefe 
are  found,  the  moft  perfect  fources  are  opened  of  joy  and  blifs. 
This  earth  was  never  intended  for  more  than  the  outer  court, 
the  porch,  through  which  the  righteous  were  to  pafs  into  the 
temple  and  fanduary    of  the  Divinity.     '^  When  that  which  is 
'*  perfed  is  come,  that  which  is  in  part  (hall  be  done  away," 

The  inference  which  follows  from  what  has  been  faid  on  this 
fubje6l,  cannot  be  fo  well  exprefTed  as  in  the  words  of  the  Apoftle, 
in  the  verfe  immediately  following  the  text  j  '*  feeing  that  all  thefe 
*'  things  Ihall  be  diflolved,  what  manner  of  perfons  ought  we  to 
*^  be  in  all  holy  converfation  and  godlmefs?''  Ought  not  the  im- 
portant difcoveries  which  have  been  made  to  us,  of  the  deligns  of 
the  Almighty,  and  of  the  delhiiy  of  man,  to  exalt  our  fentiments, 
and  to  purify  our  life  from  what  is  vicious  or  vain  ?  While  we 
purfue  the  bufmeis  and  cares  of  our  prefent  ftation,  and  partake 
of  the  innocent  pleafures  which  the  world  affords,  let  us  maintain 
that  dignity  of  character,  which  becomes  immortal  beings;  let  us 
act  with  that  circuti^fpeAion,  which  becomes  thole  who  know  they 
are  foon  to  (land  before  the  judgment-feat  of  the  Son  of  God, 
In  a  v^ord,  let  us  fludy  to  be  what  we  would  wifli  to  be  found,  if 
to  us  the  day  of  the  Lord  Ihould  come. 

I  KNOW  it  will  occur,  that  the  profped  of  that  day  cannot  be 
expefted  to  have  much  influence  on  the  prefentage.  The  events 
of  which  I  have  treated,  muft  needs,  it  will  be  faid,  belong  to 
fome  future  race  of  men.  Many  prophecies  yet  remain  to  be  ful- 
filled. Many  preparatory  events  mud  take  place,  before  the  world 
isrioe  (q-:  fi-ul  J'li- neiii. — Whether  this  be  the  cafe  or  not,  none 

of 


31 S  On  the  DiJJolut'm  of  the  World. 

of  us  .vith  certainty  know. — But  allow  me  to  remind  you,  that  to 
eacli  of  us,  an  event  is  approaching,  and  not  fardiftant,  which  fliall 
prove  of  ilie  f^me  effed:,  with  the  coming  of  the  day  of  the  Lord. 
The  day  of  death  is,  to  every  individual,  the  fame  as  the  day  of 
the  difTolution  of  the  world.  The  fun  may  continue  to  fhine  j  but 
to  ihem  who  are  hid  in  the  grave,  his  light  is  finally  extinguifhed. 
The  world  may  remain  adive,  bufy,  and  noify ;  but  to  them  all 
is  filencc.  The  voice  which  gives  the  mandate.  Return  again  to 
jfMr  (lud^  is  the  fame  with  the  found  of  the  laft  trumpet.  Death 
lixes  the  doom  of  every  one,  finally  and  irrevocably.  This  fure- 
3y  is  an  event  which  none  of  us  can  remove  in  our  thoughts  to  a 
remote  age.  To-morrow^  to-day,  the  fatal  mandate  may  be  if- 
lued.  IVatchj  therefore;  he  fiber  and  vigilant ;  ye  know  not  at 
"what  hour  the  Son  of  Man  comeih. 

Having  now  treated  both  of  the  creation  and  difTolution  of  the 
world,  I  cannot  conclude,  without  calling  your  thoughts  to  the 
jnagnificent  view,  which  thefe  events  give  us  of  the  kingdom  and 
<lominion  of  the  Almighty.  With  reverence  we  contemplate  his 
hand  in  the  fignal  difpenfations  of  Providence  among  men ;  deciding- 
the  fate  of  battles;  raifing  up,  or  overthrov^'ing  empires;  cafting 
down  the  proud,  and  Hfting  the  low  from  the  duft.  But  what  are 
fuch  occurrences  to  the  power  and  wifdom  which  He  difplays  in 
the  higher  revolutions  of  the  univerfe ;  by  his  word,  forming, 
cr  diil'oiving  worlds;  at  his  pleafure,  tranfplanting  his  creatures 
from  one  world  to  another ;  that  he  may  carry  on  new  plans  of 
v.ifdom  and  goodnefs,  and  fill  all  ipace  with  the  wonders  of  crea- 
tion  ?  SuccclTive  generations  of  men  have  arifen  to  pofiefs  the  earth. 
By  turns  they  have  pafl'ed  away,  and  gone  into  regions  unknown. 
Us  he  hath  raifed  up,  to  occupy  their  room.  We  too  fiiall  ihortly 
difappear.  But  human  exiftence  never  perifiies.  Life  only  chang- 
es its  form,  and  is  renewed.  Creation  is  ever  filling,  but  never 
fill:.  When  the  whole  intended  courfe  of  the  generations  of  mei> 
fnall.  be  finiihed,  then,  as  a  fiiepherd  leads  his  flock  from  one  pafture 
to  another,  fo  the  great  Creator  leads  forth  the  fouls  which  he 
has  made,  into  new  and  prepared  abodes  of  life.  They  go  from 
tiiis  esrth  to  a  new  earth,  and  new  heavens ;  and  ftill  they  re- 
move, only  from  one  province  of  the  divine  dominion  to  another. 
AmidR  ail  thofe  changes  of  nature,  the  great  Ruler  himfelf  re-. 

mains 


Cn  the  Dijpjhtiion  of  the  World,  329. 

mains  without  varlahknefs  or  Jhadow  of  turning.  To  him,  thcfe  fuc- 
ceflive  revolutions  of  being  are  but  asyeflerday  ihhen  it  ispajl.  From 
his  eternal  throne,  he  beholds  worlds  rifing  and  palling  away; 
meafures  out,  to  the  creatures  who  inhabit  them,  powers  and  fa- 
culties Ibited  to  their  (late  ;  and  diflributtc  among  them  rewards 
and  punifhments,  proportioned  to  their  adions. — VVhat  an  aftonifh- 
ing  view  do  fuch  meditations  afford  ot  the  kingdom  of  God  ;  in- 
finite in  its  extent;  everlafting  in  its  duration;  exhibiting,  in  e- 
very  period,  the  reign  of  perfect  righteoufnefs  and  wifdom  !  "  Who 
<^  by  fearching  can  find  out  God  ?  Who  can  find  out  the  Almighty 
''  to  perfedion?  Great  and  marvellous  are  all  thy  works,  Lord 
<'  God  Almighty  !  Juft  and  true  are  all  thy  ways,  thou  King  of 
''  faints!'' 


N        I        S. 


